To Build a Future
by Merfilly1
Summary: After Megatron surrendered at the end of emDark of the Moon/em  Novel , he had to make a plan and begin it. This is his tale, and the story of the Decepticons, as they move to rebuild Cybertron.
1. Arc One

**Title**:To Build a Future: Arc One

**Continuity**: 2011 Movieverse - Patronus AU

**Pairings**, Characters: Decepticon Ensemble, focus on Megatron

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: After Megatron surrendered at the end of _Dark of the Moon_(Novel), he had to make a plan and begin it. This is his tale, and the story of the Decepticons, as they move to rebuild Cybertron.

**Notes**: Originally posted in parts at AO3, I was persuaded to bring the fic over here. I will, as story arcs are completed on AO3, import them over if there is interest.  
>Content Advisory: Canonical hatchlings, character death reversals, some graphic imagery of fights, planetary destruction<p>

My gratitude to Femme4Jack for her amazing story idea behind Patronus, which spurred me to proceed with this fic. It is parallel to the story of Patronus, though, as this was written separate until the story suddenly dovetailed to that work, minor variations may occur.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime had been correct.<p>

Megatron had had to destroy two former henchmen, and stasis locked three others before he managed to get all of the Decepticons under his control again and on the _Nemesis_. The ship had many repairs that would be needed before they left for Cybertron, but Megatron was quickly finding resources among the litter of what might have been a failed planet between the fourth and fifth one of this system.

Now, striding through the bay where many of the surviving Decepticons, including those who had made it off the wrecked leviathan ship, Megatron wondered if he would have any rest at all from the challenges so that he might begin the rebuilding he envisioned in his processor.

"THIS IS NOTHING LIKE YOU PROMISED!"

And that, Megatron thought wearily, was so much of why they bucked, unable to see the vision he now did, incapable of knowing that their race as a whole was doomed if they did not answer Cybertron's call _now_.

He turned to view the challenger this time, and for the first time since that day in that pathetically organic warren of a city, Megatron wondered if he had the strength to deliver on his word to his brother. Until now, the Seekers had seemed willing to follow him, but then, they were all struggling with their own rank and file, having lost their direct leader.

_Starscream, your death only bought me time_, came through his processor before being dismissed as he faced the winged fighter. "I promised you Cybertron would be ours!" Megatron roared. "That it would change, to my visions!"

"What is this though? Autobots taking a planet of their own, us on the run, defeated!" the Seeker roared back, advancing with deadly intent.

"I am NOT defeated!" Megatron snapped back, though it rankled in a part of his spark that he might as well have been. He surrendered.

One of them had to, and his brother had the stronger footing. Megatron was Decepticon enough to respect strength wielded in an iron fist, and that was what he had forged of his brother at last.

Motion to one side of his good optic made Megatron grow more wary, making him shift his own stance as if circling to meet the challenger. The lines of the other were intimately familiar; the colors were the only snap of reality.

This one was in blues and reds, lacking the sensor upgraded 'tattoos', but very much an alpha class Seeker, and the one that had, until now, been the strongest contender for Starscream's position.

This was Megatron's fight, and yet... would he end one just to face the other? Was Thundercracker willing to take to the shadows when he had flown wing for their best already?

Thundercracker was not about to allow an upstart wing lead take his rank from him by going past him to challenge the Lord High Protector.

Yet, the other Seeker was voicing the things so many had whispered in data bursts already.

Did Megatron have what it took to still lead? Was there a point in following Starscream's partnership to the mech who flew but was not a Seeker?

Starscream was dead, because of this mech's plans. Starscream, who had incited revolution for his own personal reasons and had become everything he never wanted to be in it. A killer on a leash, directed by others, no matter how often Starscream had deluded himself in Megatron's long absence, was not exactly what Thundercracker's wing lead had wanted to be.

Thundercracker viewed the challenger, certain he could take that one down. Should he let the younger mech do the hatchet work and then reclaim his place as senior Seeker? Others would always say he'd taken advantage of Megatron weakening the other Seeker.

Or maybe, as Thundercracker looked past the weariness in their Lord to the calculating gleam of his optic, Megatron had a plan worth following, saving Thundercracker the trouble of finding one.

He glimpsed something, a passion in that clearer optic that pushed hard in Thundercracker's spark. It was what had let Starscream seduce him over to the cause.

What that passion might be would be seen in time, but it was enough to sway the decision.

::Skywarp, end the threat.::

There was a burst of incredulous emotion, and doubt. ::Thundercracker!::

::Do it.:: Thundercracker's voice went to space-deep ice, and his bond-mate, last of their wing, whimpered slightly before there was a sucking pop of vacuum.

Megatron braced for the blow, but it was his challenger who felt his chest explode outward, forced by the energy pike Skywarp favored for these maneuvers.

No sooner had all seen the assassination than Thundercracker moved again, taking Starscream's position just behind and off a little from Megatron's shoulder. None in the bay could mistake his intent.

The Seekers stood with Megatron now, or they went through Thundercracker to get to the Lord High Protector.

* * *

><p>The corridors rang with his steps, and Megatron scowled. There should be an answering tread, lighter with the disdain for even having to step rather than fly. Where was the mocking laughter, the suspicious questioning, the derisive sarcasm? And why, on the eve of Megatron's newest plans, did it even matter to him that the space to his side was vacant?<p>

His thoughts turned over the vision he had for the future of Cybertron at this point. None of his three lieutenants could have accepted peace, not like this, and they would have been first in line to take his spark from his chest. They would have seen only the weakness in his submission to Prime at the end of the fight with Sentinel.

None of them could have understood the calculation inherent in the choice to do so, to regain space, clarity, and a chance to openly pool resources. Starscream might have come close. The mech had been a master in the lessons of willing submission, after all, with an understanding of the methods of controlling through being controlled. However, that wasn't quite what Megatron had in mind the microt he had knelt to his brother.

No, he had a vision of Cybertron restored, using the fact that many of the surviving Autobots had a taste for war now, to push back out and claim the resources they had charted as their war spiraled beyond their original system. Cybertron would be the mighty center of an Empire as Megatron saw it now, his hubris no longer shaped by controlling all around him, but by a need to restore and better what he had broken.

He would need an organizer, though, an overseer to see the works necessary were built on schedule and within limitations.

He would need a communicator, someone to coordinate the various arms of his projects.

He most certainly did not need someone who questioned every move, who was never far from his side, and who would usurp the glory for himself with the slightest provocation. Such a being was as unnecessary now as it had been halfway through the war.

::Ramjet, I want an analysis of the hatchlings we did recover immediately. Base code percentages of lineage tracing.:: The quick, firm order was sent along comm lines with brutal efficiency, nothing of his personal thoughts tainting the words. On the other end, there was acknowledgement. Placing one of that trine in as his coordinator had been a quick way to give Thundercracker the time he needed to force the entire Seeker contingent into line beneath him the way Starscream had.

Once he had the report, Megatron would personally survey those that carried higher percentages of base coding from the three lieutenants he had lost in the final days of the war. With proper environments, enhanced by memory data being uploaded into the developing processors, Megatron could shape what he most needed out of his former lieutenants to stand at his side once more.

Shaping a viper like Starscream would take time, planning, and care. Luckily, Megatron had known Starscream a very, very long time, and knew just why his viper was bent the way he was. Megatron might not need such a heckling, vainglorious mech at his side, but there had been reasons, all along, to keep the savagely proud and strong Seeker close to him.

Megatron was more than willing to consider the tactical ones as advantage enough, and too proud to admit the more personal need for a closer confidante and companion than Thundercracker could ever be.

* * *

><p>Megatron reviewed the report pad handed to him, scanning it over before he circled the nest of hatchlings.<p>

As he had suspected, Starscream had rigged the creation process so that the majority of them possessed at least some of his coding. However, Megatron saw that Shockwave had been nearly as careful to use a retroviral code to insinuate his own base programming in many of them.

Of Soundwave, he found very little but one hatchling had made itself apparent as the listener of the group, repeating chitters in conscious, deliberate patterns.

"Ravage. Buzzsaw." The most recent version of Ravage came out of the shadows, accompanied by the other flying symbiont. Reaching out, Megatron plucked the communicator free of the nest, amused at its flip between fearful chitters and angry screeching. Ravage, unlike Frenzy, had always taken the precaution of hiding away a frame with a memory core ready to launch if the current version was destroyed. Being symbiotic to a fully sparked Cybertronian allowed for a little bending of the rules concerning new mech creation. Of course, Ravage was oldest of the remaining brood, memory wise, and had tricks for his own survival that possibly predated Soundwave's influence on his existence.

"You wish something, Megatron?" the smaller, more sinuous flying symbiont asked in a listless tone.

"Take this. Teach it. Use it. Make it be what I want it to be," Megatron said, depositing the hatchling where Ravage could pick it up with his mighty jaws, prompting a squeak of terror before the rest of the nest collectively hissed at losing a member.

Ravage ignored them all, trotting off with the soon-to-be symbiotic spark-bearer in his mouth, Buzzsaw following along.

Megatron then focused on the rest of them, narrowing down his choice for the one to be trained for replacing Shockwave. The overbearing, slightly forceful hatchling was one that was known to push and prod the others into lines when Megatron had started training them to obey commands. With ease, he reached out and caught the brute of a hatchling, ignoring its attempts to free itself.

He scowled, realizing the current lead cadre of Constructicons were not known by him, but that hardly mattered. As he walked out of the nest area, his sensors paid attention to the four candidates he had considered based on code alone for the last of his trio of lieutenants' replacements.

One of them immediately puffed up and started pushing its brethren, as it realized the biggest threat to it was gone. Megatron marked it out in his processors, intent to come back for it so he could begin a little experiment.

Thundercracker was seething inside, enough to have his fields on maximum perimeter and buzzing with it. Skywarp, for once, was unwilling to follow suit, and stayed well out of range as the angry de facto Air Commander stormed into Megatron's council chamber aboard their aging vessel.

"How dare you!" the Seeker spat at him. He did not even hesitate to push right into Megatron's personal space as the Lord High Protector planned and rearranged duty rosters on making the _Nemesis_capable of bridging the distance to Cybertron.

Megatron, without even finding out why his second was in a temper, flung the flier away from him in a sweeping motion. However, for once, Thundercracker was not being pushed around as easily as Starscream had been. The flier dug his heels in, used his inertial dampeners, and shoved right back.

"Why, Thundercracker; if you want my attention..." Megatron growled in his throat before turning and putting all his bulk into pinning the lithe flier on his wings beneath Megatron's own weight on the decking. "...all you had to do was ask," he continued, keeping the flier pinned with expertise learned over countless vorns.

Thundercracker continued to struggle, despite the damage growing from his sensitive wing-sensors grinding against the deck. Nor was his field pulsing with anything save anger.

"You cannot isolate a Seeker!"

That told Megatron just what this was over, and He shifted his weight to keep the flier pinned while also catching the other mech's face in one taloned hand. "No one tells me what I can or cannot do," he said, voice dropping to a sibilant hiss. "And he is not isolated completely. Limited contact, always in your care, or a designated flier of your choosing that is _not_Skywarp."

"He should be given over to a trine or duo like the others were!" Thundercracker's fist connected solidly, and Megatron felt a surge of lust that had everything to do with the frame class and less to do with its owner. How often had Starscream made him be dominant, made Megatron force his submission?

Thundercracker, however, was not the kind to eventually submit, and Megatron would not break the tool of his loyalty to sate his lusts. The leader caught the swinging fist in a harder grip than Thundercracker could easily manage, despite the Seeker's attempt to not show pain, and then bore down so their faces were nearly touching to make his point clear. "Your class got all but three of them. Oen of those three will fly. You don't get more than that. I have plans for him."

With a forceful shove, Megatron came up off the floor, and waited as Thundercracker's fans whirred and cycled while the mech regained control of his senses. When he had, those engines dangerously revved with the crippling harmonics, making Megatron power up weaponry in counterthreat.

Thundercracker's optics narrowed, and then he powered down.

"Maybe you really are damaged in the processors," Thundercracker told him in a non-threatening, dry tone. "If you think you can repeat his experiences after framing to produce a new one, you really are."

Megatron filed it away that Thundercracker truly was the smart one of the three, but he scowled. "I knew him before any of you did. We are all creatures born of our spark, experience, and coding. I can shape him to be far less damaged than he was before. More of a benefit to me, to our needs."

"Why?"

That desperate, emotion-laden demand drew a smirk from Megatron. "Where is my triumph, if I have none to gloat over? Prime will keep calling his own to his new, chosen world." Megatron looked displeased, but resigned to Prime's choices along that line. Perhaps, though, Prime was right. Separating their factions for now, until a new generation was ready to rise up might allow them to forge a stronger race in the end. He shifted, though, his body fully displaying the arrogance and might of the powerful ruler he intended to be, had been all along in his mind. This was about Starscream, about finding a suitable replacement for the pleasure of success that Megatron had lost when his idiot second had been destroyed. "I want to have the satisfaction that not only did I do all we ever dreamed of as younger mechs, but I survived every single treachery he attempted and outlived him. This... experiment, gives me much satisfaction since he had the poor taste to go and be deactivated!"

Thundercracker shook his helm. "You'll regret it. All three of them will be mistakes. You think you can take all their skills and tame them to your use, but they were made for the war, not rebuilding!"

"We'll see, Thundercracker. We'll see."

_He already knew he did not register on any spectrum of the sensor ranges he could access; none of the others of his frame type had noticed him._

_He couldn't reach the voice calling to him in that shining place. The other half of his spark was already there, and yet Starscream, master of all he cared to be, was incapable of being where he belonged._

_Now, it seemed, he had a purpose other than floating aimlessly around, observing and incapable of touching a thing. He settled down on the solitary nest made in the quarters of Onslaught and his teammates. "You see me. You hear me. That's all that matters. Let Megatron shape you, and think you are his. I know what he expects you to be, and I know what I will make you," he crooned softly, and the hatchling chittered softly, understanding none of it, but susceptible to it nonetheless. In isolating the hatchling, Megatron had left it needy for contact that none of Bruticus's members knew quite how to give. Starscream held no compunctions against manipulating that, beginning the process of subverting Megatron's experiment._

* * *

><p>Megatron was inspecting the work on the engines, conducted by the very Constructicons he had given the future Overseer to for training when the call pierced his consciousness. So much anger and a sense of a betrayal fueled it, making the mech curious as to what could have upset the Prime this time.<p>

::Scion.:: He directed the communication directly at the chittering distraction that was his chosen companion on this tour. It immediately stopped flaring its panels at the one raised by the Constructicons, flitting directly to its nurturer. While the Combaticons, with their wide array of subversive, sneaky, and malevolent skills had the training of it, Megatron had opted to spend portions of each ship-cycle with it as well. ::Come.::

The hatchling, knowing that command well now - and the penalty for ignoring it - scrambled up the ridged armor of its nurturer, flattening into the nook of the shoulder and neck, plating settling so that Megatron appeared to have a misshaped shoulder rather than an additional burden.

As Megatron walked back to where the Combaticon quarters were, now closer to his own due to a need to ensure they did not actually kill the hatchling, he let the communication from Optimus filter through his processor, verbally jousting with the Prime as he moved.

Truthfully, the fact Soundwave had survived did not, in the least, surprise him. It merely complicated his plans to be gone from this annoying backwater system, and Optimus Prime's whining for assistance was one more reminder that the war could not just end.

By the end of the conversation, Megatron's fields were active enough to make the hatchling chirr and whine at him in protest of the agitation. He brought a talon up, covering the small form with his whole hand, deliberately providing comfort so that it would remain fixated on him. The absence from the Nemesis that was going to follow was as inconvenient for disturbing the plans to imprint the creature on himself as much as possible as it was to the rate of progress on the ship's repairs.

However, returning to Earth would give him time to acquire new stockpiles of ready energy. He knew of a few depots that were very lightly guarded after all.

::Thundercracker, attend me.::

He stopped outside the Combaticon quarters as his second acknowledged the order. The door slid back swiftly for their Lord High Protector, and Swindle scurried forward to try and curry further favor. Onslaught was more steady, eying the leader and his burden carefully. Onslaught was still unsure of this assignment; they were fighters, an acquisition team. Whether that skill was turned towards resources or information depended upon the needs of the army, but raising a hatchling that wasn't even of any of their coding or design was unusual.

However, Onslaught had decided being on Megatron's better side was the smarter tactic in the current playing field. He wasn't strong enough, even with his gestalt, to take the leadership yet, and would not tolerate any of those others who thought they could.

"I will be absent," Megatron informed the gestalt team. "Maintain the discipline and praise system I decided on for Scion. He is to be kept from any Seeker except Thundercracker. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Swindle quickly averred as the hatchling reluctantly fluffed his plates back out and flung himself across the intervening space to the waiting mech. The wheeling, dealing hustler rubbed along the points where the plates were chafing the hatchling's cabling, taking him over to the work bench for Blast Off to inspect.

"Anything else?" Onslaught asked, optics glinting.

"Keep it alive... and back Thundercracker."

"Of course." Onslaught's loyalty was to the strongest, and so far that was Megatron. The jetformer would be easy enough to deal with, and if Megatron's absence proved too long, there were ways to become the strongest.

"I want the ship ready by the time of my return," Megatron told Thundercracker as they walked toward the launcher. "Maintain discipline, use force only as needed."

"I will, but I am not certain we can meet that deadline." Thundercracker scowled as Megatron growled. "We lost three drones manipulating the last lode-bearing rock to where we could work it!"

"Then send mechs to do the mining! Don't keep trusting mindless drones for things that merely need intelligence to succeed!"

"We are warriors."

Megatron's talons clenched, and he very nearly hit the other mech. However, that more or less proved Thundercracker's point in some ways. "If they seek to have a platform from which to be warriors again, they had better begin learning how to work," he said instead. "Have Ravage reinforce my decree."

Thundercracker stiffened at the implicit insult that he alone could not accomplish Megatron's goals. "The ship will be ready."

"Good." Megatron stepped into the launch chamber, setting the device to aim him quite specifically at Earth in one of the few blind-spots he had mapped out, just in case. Thundercracker waited to handle the actual jettison, almost wishing he had the nerve to corrupt the coordinates for a solar launch.

When it came down to it, though, he really didn't want to be in charge, so he merely fired the Lord High Protector into space on his way to meet that slagging Prime on Earth.

_The fact Megatron was not going to be in proximity to the hatchling had both pleasure and annoyance for the unseen inhabitant of the ship. Starscream curled around the hatchling, pondering his next steps as the various components of Bruticus recharged._

"You will be mine without interference while he's gone, but I am intrigued what could pull him away with the current state of affairs," Starscream mused to the barely alert and quite distracted small creature. It chirred softly at him for being noisy, making the spectral visitor laugh at it. "You have opinions. Good."

In due time, with the right prodding, Starscream would have a new tool, shaped by Megatron's little experiment and all of Starscream's willpower. For now, coddling was warranted, and the specter settled, his energy waves coiled around the hatchling as it too succumbed to recharge.

* * *

><p>The blinking server rack was innocuous enough to first sight. Megatron would even give his lieutenant compliments for the security surrounding those servers and communication arrays. However, Megatron was not going to be denied entry, though he did wait for night, and attempted to be stealthy in his breach of the security. He did not want more organics to break into their component parts, as that would start new hostilities with his brother.<p>

There was no doubt now, though, that Soundwave was not operating at full capacity. With a grimace for the need, Megatron hardwired into the server array, fending off the automatic attack with ease. Much as he despised linking himself that closely to any other being outside of _limited_instances, Soundwave had obviously only identified him as a Cybertronian threat via his weakened sensor net.

::Fool,:: he sent via the hard connection, all of his mastery of others, his power, in those glyphs. He savored the respite from powerful firewall attacks as Soundwave analyzed the stream.

::Megatron.:: The identification was with surprise. Given that all the organic news had reported him destroyed as part of the agreement for withdrawal and ceasefire, Megatron was not surprised. He still was amused that the pitiful wretches needed that false report to be able to move forward with their squalid lives.

::You doubt,:: Megatron growled as he sensed the gathering of stronger attack protocols behind the firewall separating Soundwave's core being from him. The Lord High Protector detected one of the rudimentary sensors Soundwave had in the room around the server rack and targeted it with the distinct hum of his fusion cannon as the direct warning.

::Identity confirmed,:: the communicator quickly said, showing enough transparency in his processes to allow Megatron to see the attacking protocols be dismissed.

::Now… this is a fine mess you've gotten us into, Soundwave,:: Megatron sent with a touch of amusement, before he flashed everything that began with Sentinel bracing Optimus in battle into a high speed data transfer to bring his lieutenant up to date. Of course, he edited it all to make himself appear stronger than he actually had been immediately after the battle, but what Soundwave did not know meant an advantage for Megatron in the long run.

Soundwave took his time processing the file, while Megatron remained immobile, studying everything in the array, in the sensors, preparing for the revolt when it came. Soundwave had been too committed to the cause to accept this truce without question. When Megatron realized that Soundwave had no true method of attacking him here, he realized that he would not be able to trust anything until Soundwave was repatriated to his proper form.

With a bitter, private laugh in his own processor, he realized that 'trust' and any of his followers were not a concept he truly could have, ever.

Soundwave hated for plans to go astray. He had prided himself on playing the long game, of setting things in motion that would benefit himself and his small entourage of symbionts. Having a strong position within the Fallen's views of their species' destiny had been his early motivation. With the Fallen's destruction, he had done all he could to shape Megatron's plans to continue on the path of a Decepticon destiny worthy of their might.

His anger at what had happened after the destruction of his shell left Soundwave momentarily incapable of rendering data pulses into proper communication, a fact he would be glad for once he was calculating odds again. In his current state, he could not affect Megatron. No, for that he would have to finish integrating into his orbital frame, and then confront the mech directly.

His sensors here gave him a complete analysis of his so-called leader. Megatron had not had all the cosmetic damage fixed, but Soundwave sensed that all the system damage had been repaired completely. That meant Megatron was fighting fit, and Soundwave had never been able to withstand him directly.

However, Megatron had made an error. In directly connecting to Soundwave's current location, he had arrogantly thought his firewalls could withstand anything. And, truthfully, Soundwave's full attacks were stymied by the younger mech's defenses. They had merely been diversions, though, allowing Soundwave's smaller sleeper programs to slip past, as no mech could be completely impenetrable.

::Initiating re-integration of personality core to primary frame,:: Soundwave finally said, without offering any comment on the contents of the data transfer.

::Upon completion, rendezvous with me at the gamma coordinates,:: Megatron ordered, preparing to leave. The warrior mech removed his connection from the server array, turning to leave the human building, eager to be free of the stink of the organisms that surrounded him here. The site he had designated as their rendezvous point was far more suitable to his needs, being in the midst of the Salt Flats and mostly cleansed of the constant incursion of carbon-based lifeforms.

The process of rejoining his frame was a long one, relying on the slower transmission rates of the human based technology. Soundwave would not leave himself open to being hacked, and that required a constant vigilance over both ends of the process.

That did not mean he was not planning, reaching out, manipulating events as he was able. And even though Soundwave did not believe in luck, there was a stroke of fortune for him waiting in the distance as he resumed operations at the satellite he had taken control of in orbit for his frame.

::Decepticon signal perceived; designation required.::

::Designation Astrotrain. Function, combat transportation. Responding to muster call by Starscream.::

::Starscream's functions discontinued.::

There was a long pause as the shuttle on the other end of the link determined a new course of action. Starscream had overcome every single Seeker who ever tried to remove him from the Air Command. He had also bullied, bribed, or cajoled the rest of the fixed wing fliers into supporting the smaller fliers in their domination of the army.

::New Air Commander?::

Soundwave knew from the data feed that Thundercracker held them in check, mostly because he had Skywarp's assassination skills to rely on, much as Starscream had early in the war. That did not preclude a change in hierarchy, if Soundwave was successful.

::That could be you, if you want it.::

The surge of ambition and power along the link let Soundwave know his thrust had connected perfectly.

Megatron did not waste his time as he waited for Soundwave to return to the surface. His careful planning since being reawakened from deactivation at the bottom of the ocean had led to his stockpiling information and materials in key places. Using stealth and constant vigilance, he began retrieving these resources, bringing them to the one central location. Some of them, such as the broken pieces of mechs destroyed here, or the unfinished shells of the hatchlings that had failed to thrive he considered donating to the Autobots rather than waste energy on lifting the mass, even sub-spaced. However, they had already salvaged most of the Decepticon deactivated soldiers and drones and even the battle platform and were less likely to need this than his own rag-tag bunch of survivors.

The information, data that had been scrounged from several unlikely locations around the world, was actually Starscream's doing, rather than Soundwave's. The Seeker had been forced to perform certain duties for the Fallen that had led to having a greater awareness of where Cybertronian artifacts and history had been left on this planet. While Starscream had intended to keep them from Megatron as well, that plan had failed on the first time Megatron had asserted his own dominance over the Seeker, reclaiming what had been his since long before the war had come to full blows.

With the data, incomplete as it was, Megatron would find a new way to either harness an energy source or recreate the Allspark itself.

The breech of the atmosphere was done in full sight of NEST satellites, and the Autobots prepared to react. Optimus Prime designated Sideswipe leader of the response, and was approving the use of lethal force if the Decepticon failed to surrender when he felt Megatron's touch along his bond.

::You did harangue me for being so dismissive of sparks, brother. This one is mine, and I will tend to it,:: Megatron growled, reading all the intent from Optimus's battle-state.

::Are you spying on me, brother?:: Optimus accused, but at the same time, he could not help but feel hope. He would not risk his own mechs, and Megatron was learning mercy as well as responsibility.

::The arrogant glitch made sure to get my attention.:: With that, the link severed, and Optimus began the process of dismantling the response team, to Lennox's deep confusion.

Megatron spun and landed an elbow into the midsection of the intruder's armor, continuing in motion to avoid the counter of a heavy arm swing downward. The warrior mech was full of rage, and his cannon pulsed twice as he got a good vantage. His opponent roared in pain as one of the two shots landed, albeit with less effect than Megatron could have wanted in battling this mech.

Slagging transports and their mass, he irritably complained in the sanctity of his own processors. It made them more resistant to his sheer power, and allowed them the stamina to keep up with him. Still, he was Megatron, Lord High Protector of Cybertron, the mech that had brought an entire system to its knees! Nothing could defeat him (as he refused to dwell on boys with powerful artifacts or enraged Primes), certainly not a simple transporter!

The next trade of blows sent the transporter down on his hands and knees before hastily rolling away from the disabling stomp that followed. Megatron could see the sneer, knew the transport was thinking Megatron weak for not using his blade in that vulnerable moment. How foolish the flier was!

As Megatron maneuvered to tighten the distance between them, his HUD displayed a sudden warning of servo failure in his right leg. It was just enough warning for him to push his weight to the left, splaying out the claws of his pede for better balance. On cue, though, the transport rushed him, and it took Megatron down, putting him at a disadvantage in the fight. He called up the fusion cannon for support, and found the firing controls offline.

Two system failures so close together was not natural. With a roar of rage, he instituted a scan of his processors, his autonomic functions, and simultaneously activated a failsafe mechanism to take his central tactical processor out of the circuit, falling back on a more rudimentary system to handle the fight. It was able to reroute firing control for him, and before the transport could bring his energy spear down, Megatron fired at closer range than he would have wanted, knocking the transport back and down from the sheer concussive force married to the hole punched through the transport's shoulder and wing behind it.

::SOUNDWAVE!:: Megatron bellowed in anger and betrayal, expected as it had been.

Laser fire from a different vector was his answer, and Megatron found himself facing not one but two threats to his survival, as the analytic lieutenant decided to join the fight more openly. Megatron growled, forcing his right leg to obey the primitive back up system he had to rely on while his anti-virus programs worked against Soundwave's intrusions. If they were both going to be idiots and refuse to see his vision, Megatron would beat obedience back into both of them. Even if it deactivated one or more of the three of them.

"Do you truly think the Autobots will be able to accept peace anymore than our own will?" Megatron asked as he soldered new connections in his ankle. Across from him, Soundwave was attempting to reattach his entire leg, just below the hip.

"I do not understand. You have chosen defeat." Soundwave looked to where his ally of the moment was settling into self-imposed stasis, to allow repairs at the nanite level to proceed.

"You do not understand because you cannot see through the deceptions we fostered on ourselves," Megatron told him. "We are meant to rise above all others, to rule and hold that which we conquer. But the Fallen," and Megatron paused long enough to add the glyphs for so many insults to that designation, "was deluded in his belief that our own race was part of what had to be overcome, tainted by his dealings with the other Primes."

"Autobots are ancestral enemies. The dichotomy of power between Protector and Prime is part of the legacy of the division."

Megatron's optics glowed vividly. "We are all one race," he hissed. "The most recent phase of war has had one true result that I will now make use of, Soundwave. The Autobots have learned war in its fullest form. They have violence etched into their sparks now. And once Cybertron is restored, I will use that fact against them all. I will call them to my banner, and lead all of them to take our rightful place in the galaxy."

"Optimus Prime will resist."

"Optimus, my lieutenant, is more etched in my violence than you can fathom."

Silence fell from there, and Megatron continued his repairs with the sweet savoring of just how much his Prime had been shaped by Megatron's own actions and feelings.

* * *

><p>Soundwave strode through the corridors of the vastly improved ship, going straight to his quarters. The locks on the door were overridden, then reset to locks of his choosing, information instantly shared with both Ravage and Buzzsaw within. Neither symbiont quite believed who it was entering the chamber, which prompted the flier to coil around their hatchling, while Ravage took up a protective, growling stance between the door and his responsibility.<p>

The communicator could not quite see the third life-form in the quarters, but felt it with tertiary sensors. He ignored the posturing of the symbiont who had been an enigma since the moment Megatron had presented the cybercat to him as a 'gift', with the intended threat so very clear in just how independent Ravage remained despite symbiotic bonding.

"Report, Ravage. Buzzsaw, release." Both commands were sent with the firm authority of a master within the peculiar arrangement that symbionts shared with their true handlers. He had, from time time time, detached his symbionts to others, most recently with the failed partnership of Barricade and Frenzy. The only part of extraction from Earth he had insisted on to Megatron was a thorough search for Scorponok. He would see to reformatting the bonds of that one in due time. For now, he had this surviving pair to remaster.

::Soundwave deactivated. New communicator to train.:: Ravage's report pulsed with challenge and hostility, having already chosen to accommodate his Lord High Protector's commands to train the hatchling.

"I am no longer dysfunctional, and there is no need for another." Soundwave took a step toward Buzzsaw, who managed, still containing his charge, to pull back further as Ravage intervened with a more aggressive stance.

::ALL mechs needed in full functional form.:: Ravage's optics glinted as he intercepted an attempt by Soundwave to bypass his firewalls, to compel obedience. Soundwave's own optics flared in shock at that willful and masterful disregard for his own mastery, then pushed back with a full attack of his protocols against Ravage's.

::You are bound to me.::

::I serve Megatron.::

Cybercat faced off against the communicator, fully locked in a battle of wills with dueling intrusions and counter-intrusion efforts. While they exhausted their options, Buzzsaw slithered to have the hatchling stretched out on his neck, before launching up, taking it to his berth above them. The motion was noted, and Soundwave tracked in case of a duplicitous attack. Ravage stalked menacingly closer in that moment, and he refocused entirely on the deadliest of his symbionts.

Soundwave did not want another mech with his own function in Megatron's new regime. He still wasn't convinced that the new regime was worth following. Allowing the existence of the replacement without binding its ability, blunting it into a tool, was anathema to him. Yet… much like when he had battled Jazz in the organics' data realm, he knew he craved something of a peerage with another mech. Ravage, as he was proving now, provided it to a degree, yet the cybercat had his own agenda, and his own unique view on the world.

"Enough!" Soundwave threw up strictly a defensive firewall enforcement, then strode forward, transmitting welcoming pulses at the cybercat. After a wary microt, Ravage ceased his attack, keeping his own defenses in place, before accepting a physical touch from Soundwave. The mech, weary from waging war on the organics, weary from the beating he had received at Megatron's hands, and now from the stalemate against his symbiont, dropped down and rested beside Ravage.

Satisfied all was as it should be, Ravage submitted to the communion, only allowing Buzzsaw to return down when Soundwave gave a wordless acquiescence to the hatchling's presence. With Ravage behind him and Buzzsaw coiling on his shoulders, he inspected the blocky, chittering thing that was showing signs of properly developed intelligence and free will. Soundwave could find no flaw in it, and decided if he had to nurture a new mech into being, he would shape it fully.

"Blaster." The designation was fitting. It signified another of his own frame class who had been too illogical to follow Megatron and fallen, though not without a strong fight. "You will not be a threat to me, small one. But you will to my enemies."

The hatchling merely chirruped very loudly, and settled in against the new mech in its existence.

Swindle looked very nervous as the Lord High Protector strode into the quarters where they resided. Brawl attempted, wrongly, to keep the hatchling out of sight. Megatron did not even vocalize his displeasure, he merely threw the smaller mech out of his way to see his 'project'. When he did…

…he threw his helm back and roared in appreciation of the hatchling's color-coding. The nanites in its proto-armor had chosen a schema that was so reminiscent of the pre-war Seekers, bold and striking. More, the colors were the gleaming silver and red, accented by blue and black as needed, that was too familiar to the warrior's youth, when his near-constant companion had been a disgruntled, vicious mech of that class.

"Ahh, Scion, showing your colors already." He reached out and picked up the bold little hatchling, letting it flare itself and then settle on his shoulder. He strode out, leaving the Combaticons absolutely confused over what they had thought would be a grave offense to the Lord's wishes.

In the background, sweeping along at what should be his customary place, Starscream was unnoticed by all but the hatchling, who whirred softly to be back with its true mentor.

Hook monitored as the full clutch of hatchlings, minus the two special cases, were brought back together for indoctrination in Decepticon basics. He took pride in the fact that their charge, the hatchling designated Longarm, did as he had been trained to and took charge over its clutch-mates. Around him, his own gestalt mates took data in and continued manufacturing the shells that would be adapted by the hatchlings at their next upgrade. The shells were fairly basic, but where function was already overriding the personality of the hatchling, some small design variances were introduced to speed functional integration.

The largest of the shells was the one for their ward. Longarm was already bulkier than its clutch-mates, and would need the larger form. Hook found it suitable, and was fine-tuning the wiring array within that one in his spare time. When Longarm matured, he would be the perfect overlord mech that Megatron needed to oversee the rebuilding of Cybertron.

Hook's own cadre could do nothing but rise in that glorious accomplishment. He firmly intended Longarm to be their crowning jewel of creations.

* * *

><p>"I believe it is ready," Astrotrain said with a vague sniff of disdain for dealing with a lifeless transport hauler. That the <em>Nemesis<em>was larger than any Cybertronian ever, save the mythical city-formers of ancient legend, did not impress Astrotrain. Neither did the fact it did have a rudimentary intelligence in its systems. Astrotrain looked at it and saw something that was less than even a drone.

That he had also not been impressed to learn there was a brood of scrapping hatchlings just nearing their first re-frame was another sticking point. He had little use for the chittering, scrabbling monsters, finding them to be abominations. He would never forgive Megatron or Optimus Prime for the loss of the Allspark which had forced such a hideous return to long-lost reproduction. Far better to frame a spark with full capabilities programmed into the frame, Astrotrain believed. Even if one started with the mid-development framing, adding on as time went by, it was still better than these creatures of instinct and curiosity.

"You're certain you can provide enough of a field to break the subspace warp limitations?" Thundercracker asked, still skeptical on that part. He knew how much energy it took for Skywarp to warp himself. He had doubts on Astrotrain being able to project a big enough field for their entire vessel to slip through, given how much more massive the _Nemesis_was in comparison to the transporter.

"As long as I have a bay to return to once I make the field, it will be done, Thundercracker," Astrotrain told him in a firm, almost challenging voice. "A bay that is devoid of those parasites, I will remind you."

Thundercracker bristled, both for the tone and the irritable dismissal of their future. "You do your part, and I'll be certain you get the rewards you deserve!"

The Air Commander strode out on an angry heel clicking stride, wondering just when the slag he had begun to sound like Starscream in his handling of the others. He had every intention of getting Astrotrain aboard and then doing away with any supposed promise to keep the hatchlings away. If one could imprint on the transport before re-framing, their army could only improve. He made his way toward the command bridge, irritable and wings flexing in agitation as he did, knowing deep in his spark that once they settled at Cybertron, the challenges would just start all over.

If he didn't have Skywarp, who was coded down to the smallest wire to be a Decepticon, Thundercracker wasn't certain he'd stay. Certainly he wouldn't go to the Autobots, but there were plenty of other, small outposts of their kind. There was Lithone, and a few other planets where the natives were sensibly mechanoid. But he did have Skywarp, dangerous glitch that his mate could be, and that was enough to make him stay despite Megatron's insanities.

Starscream felt the warp field beginning just beyond the skin of the ship, and it started to shear at his edges. For the first time in a very long time, the being that had ruled the Decepticons for millions of years, albeit in Megatron's name, felt fear. He had plans! He was not going to lose his way, just because Megatron had discovered a way to cut off the time it would take to return to Cybertron!

Desperation, much like necessity, led to discovery. The hatchling he had carefully been monitoring, guiding, and nurturing into his footsteps was too small to support his collective consciousness. However, others aboard _Nemesis_had known the touch of his energies, were familiar enough to his undying spark for him to anchor with. And as they were all on the command bridge now, given that Megatron had taken to keeping Scion close much of the time, Starscream had his choice.

Thundercracker appeared to be a roiling ball of fury, and thus distracted from the ongoing countdown to full warp. Skywarp was flitting from station to station, studying what was basically his own function turned to such a grand scale. Megatron…

The ruler of all Cybertron, now that Prime was officially in exile on that nastily infested rock, was watching the forward view screen in visceral anticipation. That he had Scion clutching to a perch on his shoulder, along the better side of his helm, was a sight that made Starscream chuckle to himself.

"Oh you have no idea," Starscream crooned, before choosing Thundercracker to inhabit. The other Seeker was far too distracted to notice the rerouting of power and the use of secondary systems right now.

For a moment, Megatron had thought he heard Starscream's voice, but that was far from possible. Instead, Scion was chirping in time with the countdown to full warp integrity, displaying a keen intelligence as it 'counted' in binary in time with the computer. Megatron lifted taloned fingers up to reward the small thing with scratching caresses along its head, getting a nip at first, and then a push into the touch from his ward.

The doors opened, admitting Soundwave. Megatron took in the lack of physical damage, but did not inquire how his reintegration to the surviving symbionts went. He knew Scorponok was still listlessly contained in a forward bay, so Soundwave had not had time to tackle that particular aspect of his desires. Personally, Megatron was convinced the symbiont would reject Soundwave without severe recoding, given the long association with the rotor operative that had been Scorponok's original master.

/Thundercracker in Starscream's place. Skywarp filling in where Shockwave might have been. A Soundwave who is very much set to oppose me, even if I pretend to accept his acquiescence to me,/ Megatron catalogued, optics remaining fixated on the growing energy disturbance enveloping the ship. /And every single one of them will be forced to accept my supremacy when I show them all what I have burned in my processors!/

Cybertron would thrive, and all those who needed the feel of battle, both of his own and of Prime's, would see to establishing the new Cybertronian Empire.

The warp fully engaged the entire ship, Astrotrain now safely in his bay at the rear of the vessel to complete the puncture of space and time. With a slight lurch as all inertial dampeners were thrown off line, the ship jumped, destination known and desired by all aboard.

The space ahead stabilized, and the screen was filled with Cybertron's form…

"NO!"

Megatron's roar was the first to break the silence on the bridge, as the planet was there, a dark, almost molten mass on one side, twisted and broken towers on the other. Soundwave flicked over the various communication lines, but he already knew; the satellites were gone so how could there be dialogue?

"Cybertron…it's dead!" Skywarp gasped, his processor too slow to give him a shred of self-protection in this moment of shock. Fortunately for him, Megatron had only optics for the planet, lost in this blow to his grand dreams.

"Theory: the partial movement and rapid displacement torqued planetary faults to a point of rupture," Soundwave said, stunned on a level he had not thought feasible.

After a long, painful silence, Megatron's hand on the hatchling shifted, flicking at Skywarp. "The moons are still present. Make an orbit around the larger of the pair. We will evaluate from there."

Order given, Megatron strode out of the bridge, carrying his ward… and hastily flanked by Starscream's spirit as it disentangled from Thundercracker.

* * *

><p>Scion was placed with the Combaticons, leaving Starscream's spirit to decide hastily where he wished to be. The hatchling was his future, but he needed as much data as he could acquire on Megatron and this latest scheme as he could. That was the only reason, he swore in his spark, that he wanted to follow Megatron at all. It had <em>nothing<em>to do with shock at Cybertron's sad shape. It was enough to make him give a last look toward Scion, already stalking Swindle with an intent to demanding nourishment, and hastily leave before the door closed.

He hated the sensation of passing through material objects, which was one reason he had not just waylaid a fellow Seeker and taken over their casing. Even the temporary push into Thundercracker's frame, to have a shell around him for the warp, had been distasteful to him. When Scion was of a size to be useful, having been trained and coerced into brilliance, then Starscream would make that permanent step into being whole again. For now, he avoided closing doors and did not let anything occupy his space.

Megatron entered his chamber, followed by the ghostly presence, and flicked a command at the far wall, which brought up the same view they had from the command deck. Megatron stood in front of it, talons flexing, mapping out the planet over and over, trying to see what was completely lost, and what was merely broken, twisted. Starscream took up a place just to his left, studying it as well. So many cities, including most of the world that was considered civilized, had fallen. As Starscream watched, there were red pulses visible from space in amongst the molten side of the planet; magma still flowed then.

"The moons are more problem than boon," Megatron commented, just as Starscream was getting to the same conclusion. It made the specter look at his lord, studying him. This entire new move of Megatron's, toward peace and rebuilding had been shocking to the Seeker, until he dug deep into ancient memory banks. There, Starscream had known a mech who wanted to reshape everything to match desires that had been simpler at the time.

"You'll have to move their orbits out further, so they do not pull the magma tides so hard," Starscream said, irritated that Megatron could not hear his suggestion. He looked around for anything he could affect, finally discovering where Megatron's data pads were. Those were so simple, with such basic processors. With a wicked smile on his features, he claimed the uppermost one with a touch of his ethereal hand in its components, taking control of the processor, and letting his own brilliance write itself out in formulae for activating the moons' boosters. The data for safer orbits took Starscream a slightly longer time to spill out, as he had not looked at the console to read the data the _Nemesis_was pulling in, but soon, he thought he had the new point of stability written out. He saved the data in the simple device, and then focused as hard as he could on making the data pad fall from its stack. It took so much energy to affect the physical world like that… and no sooner had the device fallen than Starscream felt his presence be swept away to the anchor point of the hatchling.

"Pits!" he cursed as his form incorporated, though far less substantially, near where the hatchling was gnawing happily on Swindle's hand while the Combaticon demanded his gestalt help him.

The clatter of the data pads made Megatron scan the entire chamber before putting the fall down to the tremors still shaking the ship from its warp-journey. He walked over to straighten them, so Scion would not damage one when he came in, and noted that one was flashing with a priority message. The warlord flicked it on to read the message, and his optics narrowed on seeing the science that was written at a level few could handle without a more complex processor than any data pad carried.

The message originated on the pad, though, and no amount of testing it could prove otherwise. With a growl, Megatron took the pad to his main computer, plugging in the formulae to a probability generator. All data points were plotted, and bit by bit the model rendered, until Megatron could see that one set was for activating the moon's boosters, long since deemed unnecessary, while the rest of it was for plotting out safe distance. The model played out, and showed Cybertron quieting in its magma eruptions. Megatron's voice echoed in the chamber as a purr of delight, even as he remained curious just where such formulae had come from.

Soundwave's intellect did not run toward such science. Shockwave was indubitably deactivated, and had rarely displayed any interest in astrogation and its related sciences.

Starscream was gone. Megatron knew that with the blackened pulse of his own spark as well as he had known the moment Optimus Prime ceased to function. And unlike with his brother, there had never been a new pulse to suggest Starscream had found his own way back to a sparked existence. Yet the science of the pad's formulae reminded him of that young genius who had been violently opposed to a regime that had forced him and his bonded into the service of an uncaring military instead of allowing them entrance to an academy.

"Always a failure to me, Starscream," Megatron growled, resenting his second's deactivation all over again. He opened a communication line to Thundercracker, voice growling out orders. "Ready two teams to penetrate the moons' defenses. We have work to do."

"Will this work?" Skywarp asked aloud, taking the clang upside his helm with a solid good cheer from his mate.

"Shut-up, would you; I hate remote piloting as it is," Thundercracker told him, finishing the last adjustments to Beta-Moon. Alpha-moon was settling as well, under Soundwave's team's guidance. There had been a momentary panic when the shifting had precipitated an new magma storm on the molten side of the planet, but Hook had argued it was to be expected, and such things would need time to taper off. His team was eying the twisted, broken side of the planet with something akin to fervor in their optics, which satisfied Megatron.

"Orbits stabilized," Soundwave announced.

"Two full lunar revolutions will be needed to be certain," Hook reminded Megatron.

"Agreed. Spend the time reframing the hatchlings; they need to begin learning useful skills." Megatron was quite looking forward to Scion's reframing, now that he had a starting place concerning Cybertron. Survivors found on the moons had given first hand accounts, and would provide even more of a work force. Perhaps, Megatron mused, this was the final crucible his race had needed, to forge a civilization truly worthy of ruling the galaxy.

"As you command, my lord," Hook said, his own thoughts turning fondly toward Longarm and the special frame awaiting his ward.

"How in all the PITS can an entire brood refuse to have wings?" Thundercracker demanded of Hook. "You tampered with them!"

"On the contrary, Thundercracker; I am as surprised as you are!" Hook said, tried to wriggle free of where the volatile Seeker had slammed him. "As high as the Seeker coding was in all of them, it is shocking that only the one designated Scion has begun wing creation."

Hatchlings went through many frame adjustments. In order to be strong enough to leave the sacs, they had to convert some of their nourishment to an exo-suit over their protoform. Often, this was followed by a rapid reframing into actual armor, but the Decepticons had been lacking resources to do so until just before the jump to Cybertron. However, those first sets of armor were considered to be 'blanks', with only basic coding that would then be activated by the sparks within the hatchlings to taking on new forms. Scion, as expected, had been doing nothing but recharge and take in nourishment, reshaping the armor frame to take on the gliding wings of a young Seeker. The rest of the brood had given minimal changes to their armor, forming tools and structural improvements more in keeping with Constructicons.

"Both of you cease to fight," Megatron growled as he entered, Scion held in his arms against his chest. The gleaming silver of the Seekerling's armor was so blatantly familiar to Thundercracker that he could do nothing but look away. Especially as non-war colorations filtered out to the tips of the wings and heels. Starscream's own clone, that one, and it unnerved Thundercracker. "It is clear that the brood responded to the needs of our race, as the communal reaction to Cybertron raced through us all more than loud enough to affect their nanites. We'll turn this sacrifice of the brood's individual talents toward our future. Hook, begin working through them, determining gestalt teams. Thundercracker, you and your Seekers will be too busy to train any Seekerlings. All of you must begin flights over the planet, determining structural soundness, survivors' locations, and resources." Megatron clicked in binary at Scion, and the Seekerling swiftly scrambled up and over to cling to the warlord's back instead. This allowed Megatron to reach out and clasp Thundercracker's arm, drawing him close enough to bore his optics into the other's. "Our future is riding on your command of that fractious lot," Megatron hissed. "Do not fail me."

For an instant, Thundercracker bared his dentaplates at his leader and lord, ignoring the pressure of those talons on his arm. "I serve Cybertron, and you so long as you do," he growled fiercely, full of his own pride.

Megatron clasped the other arm too, then threw his head back and howled with laughter. "Sometimes, you show me why he chose you." With that, he shoved the Seeker away, chuckling when Scion hissed at Thundercracker too, before walking out.

"Slagging insanity," Thundercracker mumbled.

Hook did not disagree.

* * *

><p>It took time for Cybertron to settle with its moons in further orbit, time that was spent taking a census of the survivors who had been on Alpha and Beta at the time of the space bridge incident. Megatron had to wonder, bitterly, if Sentinel Prime had managed the last laugh at last, for many of the survivors were no more than scientists and miners. It took Soundwave pointing out that miners might well be useful in reclaiming the planet to pull Megatron away from a growing rage.<p>

The leader had to wonder just what Soundwave stood to gain by keeping Megatron out of said rage, or if he just feared for his existence should Megatron lose his temper.

Through it all, Astrotrain, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the dozen-plus fliers aboard the skip were overflying the planet, installing relay points for communications on the twisted, broken side, and finding those who had survived the mayhem. While Astrotrain refused to transport those wrecks to the moons, supplies were brought in, rallying points established, and lures set to bring in any they had missed in their flyovers. They suspected few among them would ever be more sentient than a drone again, but Soundwave would be able to manipulate them all into usefulness at least.

The hatchling designated Blaster was a source of both pride and frustration to Soundwave as he readied to make landfall, having done all of his preparations for landfall. Deciding what to do with his ward was of utmost priority now, as he needed both Ravage's and Buzzsaw's capabilities with him.

It took having Blaster with him when he went to try once more to coerce Scorponok into a bond to find a solution to both problems.

Soundwave entered the hold where Scorponok lay listlessly, mere joules away from a being in stasis. Blaster, in his routine of observation of his mentor, was walking on his own pedes, for Soundwave did not pamper him the way Ravage did. Scorponok stonily ignored the caresses along the symbiont band aimed at him from Soundwave. However, when Blaster chirruped and clicked out queries in binary, the arachnoid lurched upright, optics and tail both orienting on the newcomer.

Soundwave, well-aware of his own punishment if harm should befall the small being, powered up his weaponry. However, his reading of the situation told him there was no threat in the symbiont's manner. He monitored, watching as Blaster steadily moved toward the symbiont, optics glued to the fascinating creature that resonated much like Ravage, but with an open, gaping hole in his frequencies.

Blaster clicked at Scorponok, and the arachnoid clicked back in perfect understanding. Within moments, Blaster was atop the much larger symbiont's back, settling just above the optics, chittering in excited noises that made his new mount croon upwards. Soundwave read through their resonances, watching as a frequency band settled out between them.

His ward was precocious, Soundwave decided, but if the hatchling had his own symbiont, then Ravage and Buzzsaw would certainly be able to attend him planet-side.

Hook and his gestalt were of vital use on the planet. They were the remnants of several other gestalts, but had managed to forge a working link that allowed for a new Devastator to be formed from the ruins of those. Having made themselves adapt, Hook had forced upon the others the names of his fallen brothers, continuing the legacy of what had been the first true Constructicon gestalt.

He was already seeing promise in some of the hatchlings to be able to do the same thing, but did not wish to risk them yet on the planet. While Longarm would, by necessity, go with Hook's group to the planet, the rest of the hatchlings would continue their learning aboard the ship. The only problem was in finding an adequate teacher to oversee them all.

Hook smiled cruelly as he decided he had just the right victim in mind.

Reflector looked on the brood without anything approaching good humor. It was true that his talents were not needed by their lord, currently. It was also true that he did not want their Lord to know just what he had filmed quite recently between certain subordinates. Hook was a glitch to have held that over his helm.

"Alright, you glitch-taken rust stains! Fall in!"

The hatchlings clicked and clacked and made unruly noises, but they did understand 'muster' at least.

A slight smile formed in his spark, if not upon his faceplates. If he had to teach, he might as well secure future favors while he was at it.

Megatron steadied Scion, the small one still reacting with hisses at every creak and rasp of metal on metal. It made the flier edgy, which somewhat amused his keeper. After all, the young Seeker was reacting with anger, not fear, at the strangeness of Cybertron's noise. It also served to distract the warrior from his displeasure at what he had for resources.

Behind him, he had the Constructicons on one side and the Combaticons on the other. Bruticus could serve as, well, brute force. The Seekers were out, mustering the wrecks to be worked over by Soundwave. The rest of the brood, save those who were being specifically trained and indoctrinated to replace, or back-up in Soundwave's case, key officers, were in the care of Reflector and a handful of drones.

There was work to be done, and it would be a long project ahead of him. However, Megatron had chosen this path. He would not fail in his dream.

"Proceed, Decepticons." His words put in motion the efforts that would transform this landing site into a new metropolis worthy of Megatron's presence.

Starscream watched the two gestalts begin assaulting the broken, twisted wreckages of the city that had been. Megatron did not deign to sully his hands here, though. Instead, he purposefully strode through the chaos, necessitating Starscream to hurry along. The specter eyed Scion irritably when the hatchling begin clicking at Megatron, as if cataloguing all it was seeing.

"You need to get big enough to be useful to me," the ghost growled at the non-verbal creature. Predictably, Scion paused in its clicking to turn its helm enough to hiss directly at the spirit visible and audible to it alone. "Before Megatron makes a bigger mess than this already is!"

The treacherous little creature actually brushed against Megatron's mostly restored helm at that irritation aimed to his keeper, and Megatron responded by reaching up to run a talon along the gliding wings.

"He's even getting soft," Starscream groused, but he grew quiet as his curiosity overcame him on feeling a wellspring of power converging. He flicked his vision through its ranges (still quite unsure how he was intangible, invisible, and yet still able to do everything as if he still possessed form!) to see phantom traces of energy swirling, drawing steadily toward the destination Megatron had in mind.

A rather difficult set of calculations, based on orbital observations, and the few landmarks they had made out from space, allowed Starscream to make a rough estimate of just where this place had been before the devastation. When he did, his eerie optics glowed with a deeper hue than ever before.

This had been where the All Spark existed, before the foolish Prime sent it away.

And Megatron was going to the very center of the faint energies steadily swelling on that spot.

Scion could not get large enough for Starscream's needs quick enough at all, with his curiosity now aroused fully as to the plans Megatron had not verbalized. Looking at the Lord High Protector's faceplates, Starscream _knew_Megatron had anticipated something of this nature, and only the state of Cybertron had set him back.

"Just what are you planning, my lord," Starscream mused, optics riveted on where Megatron and Scion stood in the midst of the gathering energies.


	2. Arc Two

**Title**:To Build a Future: Arc One  
><strong>Continuity<strong>: 2011 Movieverse - Patronus AU  
><strong>Pairings, Characters<strong>: Decepticon Ensemble with a guest appearance by Ratchet and other Autobots in minor roles.  
><strong>Chapter Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Roughly 40 years after events of _Dark of the Moon_ (novel), Cybertron is recovering slowly, and Megatron sends for an Autobot  
><strong>Notes<strong>: Originally posted in parts at AO3, I was persuaded to bring the fic over here. I will, as story arcs are completed on AO3, import them over if there is interest.  
><strong>Content Advisory<strong>: Canonical hatchlings, character death reversals, some graphic imagery of fights

_My gratitude to Femme4Jack for her amazing story idea behind Patronus, which spurred me to proceed with this fic. This arc is in the future of Patronus though minor variations may occur. _

* * *

><p>The flare of alarms sounding throughout the new city of Megatropolis brought Megatron quickly from the temple complex. His thrusters roared through the air with a particular basso rumble that sent the Seekers scattering out of his flight path, only to fall into a proper flight and follow their Lord.<p>

In the half-vorn since returning to reclaim their home-world, the Decepticons had built a thriving city on the site of the former capitol. Yet it was not strictly a Decepticon project, as some Autobots had returned, accepting both the end of the war and Megatron's invitation to help make their world live again. That first brood of hatchlings were not the only new lives, though available resources were carefully monitored before new creation was allowed.

Now, all that Megatron had built, through his followers and allies among the Autobots, was apparently being threatened. He landed at the palace, a gleaming, burnished building of thirteen spires, before striding inside to where the war room was located. The Seekers who had followed landed in precise order on the field outside, receiving orders from Thundercracker to remain ready.

"My Lord," Scion said smoothly, the juvenile Seeker as beautiful as ever in his state of high-polish. The young one fell in beside the warlord, stepping smartly to keep up with the longer strides. His optics glared briefly at the ghostly apparition that accompanied them, but Starscream seemed willing to merely observe at this time.

"What do we know, my novitiate?" Megatron asked the young Seeker.

"Soundwave was training Blaster on the outlook system, when an an outer satellite tracked an anomaly. A closer one confirmed it to be a fleet of at least five ships. They are not registering as any known Cybertronian design, and preliminary scans indicate a possible Junkion origin," Scion briefed the mech.

"Ahh, good. Things were getting so boring," Megatron said gleefully as they entered the war room, where Blaster hovered nervously, and Soundwave continued to read the data streaming in from his far flung satellites. Scion ignored the other young mech, maintaining his place of honor just off from Megatron's shoulder, easily in reach of the older mech. His optics burned with passion, hoping to be allowed to go with the flight of Seekers to contend with the problem.

"They will be little challenge," Soundwave scoffed as he provided technical details.

"I know, but it will alleviate some of the tension." ::Thundercracker, the full flight; Soundwave will remain in charge here. You will command the Flight.:: Megatron allowed the send to be open, to both Soundwave and Thundercracker. Nor did he exclude his young companion from it; the juvenile Seeker was student to all his machinations.

"My Lord, I will attend the battle as well!" Scion declared, voice gone hot and hungry for the fight.

Megatron almost forbid it; Starscream had not wanted to be a warrior until life gave him no reason not to be one. Yet, Scion was too much a product of his own shaping to not burn with a thirst for destruction. After that initial impulse to deny Scion, Megatron smiled, nodding. "You will fight where I can observe your mettle, Scion," he challenged. Failure would have a harsh price; Megatron demanded the best from his ward.

The reward would be well worth it, the young Seeker knew, if he proved himself worthy in the space battle.

Megatron then looked at Soundwave. "Make certain the Autobots among us understand that Cybertron is under attack from alien aggressors."

Soundwave was amused, and gave a curt nod; the Autobots that lived on Cybertron were very carefully fed a propaganda that heightened their protective spirit toward Cybertron, preparing for the eventual conquest of nearby systems.

* * *

><p>The five ships had not been expecting resistance. Their scouts that had passed through this region of space some time prior had described Cybertron as 'molten slag, ready to be mined'. Scrambling unprepared fighters took some time, which meant the Seekers had leisure to pick them off as they emerged, until the Junkions got smart and launched a wave of them at once. Then the fighting settled into interesting lines.<p>

The enemy had apparently been studying Decepticon anatomy, given their familiarity with stressor points in the wings of the fliers. Their use of high-flare weaponry was also aimed at damaging the more sensitive sensors of their opponents, which led to many Seekers accidentally damaging their own kind. Megatron relished the battle, though, throwing himself against the cruisers themselves despite the heavy guns trying to cripple him. It left Scion wavering; fight by his Lord, and potentially fail due to being outclassed, or take on the smaller fighter ships and potentially excel.

/There is another option./ Over the half-vorn of existence Scion had enjoyed, he and his other mentor had managed to work out silent communication, by Starscream overlapping his processor space just enough to emit the communication directly. Scion growled, though, as Starscream was growing difficult to evict, even if his frame was not yet quite large enough to support the amount of energy that manifested in Starscream's spectral presence. While they had an uneasy alliance centered on Starscream teaching Scion, the younger mech harbored few illusions on what Starscream wanted from him.

Scion was not going to just roll over and let the old Seeker take his frame.

/Only for the fight, or I will fly us through the rad zones again,/ Scion growled. It was an effective threat; the radiation there seemed to break Starscream's grip on whomever he was possessing.

Starscream locked down the indignant outrage, as well as the scheming desire to keep the rust-bit from ever regaining control. For now, they would be one, with Scion learning even as Starscream pushed the immature frame to its limits in dizzying swoops and dazzling displays of daring skill. A few fighters were enough target practice, allowing Starscream to know his limitations (temporary ones, he reassured himself), before he burned thrusters to catch up to Megatron, flying around the warlord with an eye to disabling the cruiser cannons as Megatron himself dealt true damage to the warships.

Thundercracker got his Flight under control, isolating which sensors could be tuned down or shut completely out soon after. He was just as glad to not have Megatron's pet in his Flight, as Scion listened to no one but himself and Megatron.

/So much like Starscream,/ Thundercracker remembered, half-bitter at the continued experimental upbringing of the only Seeker to be created in any of the broods thus far.

It did not take much more effort, once the Decepticons were fully comfortable in the battle, to utterly destroy the Junkion fleet.

* * *

><p>Megatron slid into the steaming pool of oil, his entire frame grateful for the warmth after the brief space battle. His optics gave a silent command, and Scion brought him a cube of the synthetic energon Hook had come up with. It did not bring the same level of refreshment that true energon had, but would do for now. Fully submerged to his upper chest, Megatron flared his armor open, letting the oil seep in and lubricate hidden motors and relays.<p>

"You fought well, my novitiate," he praised, and Scion could not help but preen beside the oil-pool.

"I was inspired," he answered coyly.

"That's what you call me now, rust-bit?" Starscream asked from his own ghostly perch to one side. Scion had to fight to keep from glaring his way, but it would not do to be caught talking to nothingness. He'd scathe the specter later, in private, he promised himself.

Megatron rumbled contently. "I heard Longarm had a new framing recently."

Scion turned his irritation at Starscream into a frown for his Lord. "Hook says my processor has not outgrown my current frame's capabilities."

"I think they are pushing that mockery of Shockwave too fast too far, and he will crack under pressure." Starscream smiled at his own words. "So let them, and it will be an easy thing to exploit, in time."

"Blaster has also upgraded more often than you have," Megatron pushed.

"He has to be able to carry his symbionts in time, so his frame is not devoted strictly to housing himself," Scion snapped, irritable as Megatron's words seemed to imply he was faulty.

Megatron surprised him by laughing, instead of reaching out to cuff him. "Have you been considering your next frame design?"

"Of course he has, you ancient piece of scrap," Starscream said impudently. Scion's wings twitched, but he did not look at the taunting mech, no matter the insult to his Lord.

"I have designs," Scion cautiously admitted, curious where this was going.

"Good." Megatron did not elaborate beyond that, leaving the juvenile Seeker to worry around the edges of the entire conversation in curiosity. "Go let Thundercracker review your combat performance. I have no more need of your presence."

Scion brought himself to his feet from the edge of the pool, inclining his head just slightly, but his Lord's optics were already offline.

By the time he was in the corridor, so was Starscream. "You need to stop talking to me in his presence," Scion muttered very low.

"Oh but it is one of my few pastimes." The ghost smiled wickedly, as his young future host ground dentaplates together in frustration. Something was afoot, and Scion did not know what.

* * *

><p><em>Optimus,<em>

_Send a medic or engineer with frame-craft knowledge. I have a special commission._

_This will give you a chance to spy on my progress._

_But don't send your pet. The atmosphere is still toxic to its species._

_Megatron_

Optimus Prime, accustomed to brief and encrypted messages from his brother arriving via the hyper-space relay, sighed. No matter how many times he told Megatron that Mikaela was not a pet, his brother insisted on calling her that. He considered sending a reply via the relay, but then canceled that option. While the relay was the most useful application of space-bridge technology, Megatron had requested a medic. Or engineer, he reminded himself, but he already knew he would ask Ratchet first. They were all curious about Cybertron, and Optimus trusted Ratchet to survive anything that might be in store, including treachery. First Aid was too impressionable, after all, and Wheeljack was far too … himself.

Ratchet also had the benefit of actually being on Mars currently, where Prime was. They rotated personnel down to Earth, but under the treaty with the UN, their sovereign nation was now on the fourth planet of the solar system. Humans maintained a presence in their domed and tunneled cities, where atmosphere was kept stable for the humans. However, things were built in and on Mars with Cybertronians in mind first, humans second.

The gravity did wondrous things for humans as a whole, they had found, which was one reason Mikaela had moved there as soon as there was more than one quad to house anyone in. Sam and Carly were their chief ambassadors on Earth these days, while Robert Epps and his wife as well as others had rotated in and out of both sides of the human embassy.

Optimus Prime rarely went to Earth now, with his cohort coordinating between the Embassy there and on Mars. He felt it necessary, as regnant, to be among his own people as much as possible. More Autobots had arrived, and, surprisingly to him, some Decepticons who feared reprisal by the ruling class on Cybertron for various war transgressions. Prime gave sanctuary, but he knew that at least a few were honestly spies for either Megatron or Soundwave. It was no less than Optimus making it a point to debrief incoming Autobots that had been found or released from 'Con controlled areas.

::Ratchet, join me in operations?::

::On my way, Optimus.::

* * *

><p>Path Finder declared her existence the moment she broke free of the FTL drive, announcing to Decepticon Command that she was carrying an Autobot ambassador. The flurry of 'Stand off or be destroyed' and 'Processing request' would have been amusing if it were not for the fact she was antsy enough being in this region of space.<p>

::Awaiting permission to at least orbit, Ambassador.::

::Slag that title, bitlet,:: Ratchet groused at the young explorer. It was so odd to deal with one who had not been a part of the main war, but rather part of an offshoot of both their race and the war itself. ::Still thankful you came by when you did. Sky Lynx was being surly about the ride.::

::Autobots need more spacers,:: Path Finder told the medic, before settling to wait for permission.

Megatron was waiting, personally, as the cometary Autobot unfolded on the landing field. He was also alone, something that did Ratchet's processor good. Ironhide had been insistent this was a trap and tried to be attached as a bodyguard. Ratchet had quashed that idea by pointing out that Annabelle had an important conference and would need him more.

Ratchet sized up the Lord High Protector, seeing the complete confidence with something akin to fear in his spark. He forced it away; of course Megatron held all the power right now. "Megatron," he said, dispensing with titles in the only mark of disapproval he would show.

"Still the same hard-cased mech, Ratchet," Megatron said, approving of the temerity. "I am honored to see my brother credits my demand with his best."

/Slagger, if you think he would ever risk a young mech here…/ Ratchet kept those thoughts off his faceplates.

"You mentioned a need for frame-crafting. Last I knew, Hook had survived, and his frames were superior to most," Ratchet pointed out, falling in step with the tyrant as they strode toward the palace. For better or worse, he was here until Path Finder completed her supply trade at Lithone and returned to acquire him.

"It is not suitable for my purposes to allow him to craft a final frame for the mech I have in mind," Megatron said smoothly.

Ratchet did a quick tally of time, and there was no way, even if there had been protoforms on the Nemesis, any of them could have been developed to the point of a final upgrade so soon. Not without some diabolical stimulation, and that made Ratchet's temper flare beyond politically acceptable levels. "What have you done to some scraplet, Megatron?"

Megatron laughed. "How little you think of me, Ratchet," the tyrant said with glee in that fact. "But no, he should have one intermediate stage left yet. However, I am looking to you, and the mech in question, to bridge this. How different from engendering a frame-build could it be?"

"You maniacal, insane mech, there's pits-loads of difference! There's personality modules and processing power that has to adapt to more power than it has grown into and…"

"Then it is a good thing my brother sent me his best," Megatron cut him off with impatience. "You will make it work, Ratchet."

There was no more discussion, as Megatron showed the mech to a suite that was both workshop and recharge room, near to his own quarters. The medic could only fume, but even he knew better than to push what passed for a leash on that unruly, chaotic temper.

* * *

><p>The noise on Autobot channels was muted as Ratchet settled in, scanning over the dossier Megatron had left for him concerning his new project. Seeker, allowed to have input into his final frame design, carefully tutored to serve as an upper-rank advisor… and before Ratchet could really think about what that said on his host, there was a flare of activity that made the medic tense.<p>

::…get down…::

::…not here…::

::…gonna die…::

The sounds, surrounded by the crackle of distance and interference, cut out completely, and the entire Autobot band of the communication spectrum went silent for long enough that Ratchet decided he had either hallucinated the initial noise, or that he had purposefully been isolated from it.

Then it returned, with none of the fragmented stress-thoughts in it, just relaying the normal routine of those Autobots functioning as part of the rebuilding crew.

Ratchet was going to need to get out of the palace, because those fragments concerned him far more than anything else he had yet encountered.

* * *

><p>Of course Ratchet had fallen into light recharge before his patient deigned to show up. The instant the immature Seeker swept into the room, Ratchet felt all his struts stiffen and his processors come fully online. The scraplet walked with arrogance, heel-thrusters never deigning to touch the decking, with his wings flared wide and open. The sneer on his faceplates spoke volumes, and Ratchet realized that this scraplet had no idea what Megatron intended… and was hiding it with the same cockiness Starscream had held for vorns upon vorns.<p>

"Scion," the mechling introduced, which alleviated some of Ratchet's worries. The voice was at least normal.

"Ratchet, as you know already." The medic walked around the scraplet, taking in the make of his frame so far, then shook his helm. "Megatron's insane."

"Oh look, something I agree with an Autobot on," the spectral Starscream said, unheard by Ratchet and unheeded by the suddenly enraged Scion.

"You dare!" Scion roared, lunging from where he had been preening for the inspection to trying to get his hands around the medic's neck or in his spark casing, preferably. Unfortunately for the irate scraplet, Ratchet had more experience defending himself from Decepticons than anything else save repairing 'bots. Scion wound up face down, pinned, one arm yanked up and around, and the uncomfortable pressure of a knee in a wing.

"The medic is feisty," Starscream cheerfully commented, ignored by the one of the pair who could actually hear him.

"Political disagreements aside, I suggest you not try that again, and I will reiterate it: he's gone loose in the processor, because he expects me to take you, scraplet, and make you fit a full-size, final frame," Ratchet growled, not easing pressure until the shock of his words made the Seeker go limply pliant.

"My Lord wishes me… to upgrade? Fully?"

Ratchet wanted to curse for a breem at that worshipful, hungry, and eager-to-please voice coming out of the scraplet even as he moved to allow the young Seeker up. He did snort, echoed by a disdainful noise from the ghostly Starscream, which Scion did snap a glare for, as he got back to his pedes.

"You will not find it easy, scraplet. Now get out, and come back after I've had time to process your scans against the data your oh so generous Lord gave me," Ratchet snapped, using sarcasm heavily in his tone for that last.

Scion decided not to notice it, considering. If this mech was to help him upgrade, he would bite back his own response. Later, he could eviscerate the disrespectful mech.

After he was worthy of true notice from his Lord.

* * *

><p>Ratchet looked over the scans he had been given, then matched to his own scans, begun the instant the scraplet had entered his workspace. Static fuzzed his processor as he noted some disparities, and tried to puzzle through them. When Scion showed up again, Ratchet had his scanners set to the highest maximum gain, and took in all that he could. This time, when Scion left, the disparity in scans was far more noticeable and offered up a strange diagnosis, one that the medic did not care for.<p>

As he reached it almost simultaneously with a new burst of furtive noise on the Autobot frequencies, Ratchet decided he needed to take to the streets of Megatropolis… oh the hubris of that name!… and clear his processor with a little snooping.

* * *

><p>Soundwave had always had difficulty actively hacking through any medic's processor, even when they were in recharge. To have an Autobot medic in the city was increasing the difficulty of his agenda, for he could never be certain how the medic would react to various plans in motion. As Ravage informed him that the medic had left the palace, Soundwave considered a contingency plan. An assassination of such a high-ranked member of Prime's own cohort would certainly reignite the war, yet was it worth it at this point?<p>

He still did not know enough of Megatron's aim, nor what was transpiring in the temple that Megatron had used drones to build. He knew Blaster was nearing maturity rapidly, but was unsure of the mechling's loyalty to himself. Then there was Hook, and Longarm's near iron-control over most of his brood-mates and those younger than himself.

With a silent command, he detailed Ravage to study the Autobot's movements, and await further commands.

He then had to second guess his own decision … Ravage could not find Ratchet, as the medic proved slippery prey to the hunter who had spent little time actively in the field over the last half-vorn.

Soundwave would have to work on that.

* * *

><p>Evading surveillance was something Ratchet was good at. He'd been doing it the whole war, and peace had just meant learning to dodge well-meaning allies. Whatever was happening among the Autobots on Cybertron was not meant for Decepticon audials and optics, in Ratchet's considered and jaundiced opinion. He slipped into the streets of the city, keeping his head down and obscuring his markings with a little holographic work.<p>

Now all he had to do was find the unhappy Autobots, and see what he could do about their plight. It might take him some time, but he had that to spare.

"You are not going to take my new frame!" Scion whirled to face the cheerfully crooning specter. Starscream's optics blazed bright, despite the fact Scion could dimly see everything on the other side of him.

"How will you stop me?" Starscream asked sweetly. "You'll be just as disorganized as any bitlet taking an upgrade, and I won't be."

Scion bared his dentaplates, sharp and menacing, despite his impotence in this matter. He decided to ignore Starscream then, sweeping on down the corridor to his next appointment with Ratchet. The medic had been delaying and spacing these appointments out on purpose, Scion just knew! However, the frame under construction was going to be a beautiful one. He could already envision its colors once he activated the nanites to his own coding.

"Why don't you go haunt someone else?" Scion exploded, as they reached Ratchet's doors.

"Because I don't want to," the annoying ghost said in reply, prompting the young Seeker to slam his hand across the scanner to be admitted. The door slid open, too slowly, and Scion briskly entered, wishing the doors to slam shut and make Starscream cope with being in an inanimate object.

The doors closed, and no Starscream appeared, even as Scion became aware of a curious pulsing of energy, similar to the radiated zones Starscream loathed so much.

"Am I right? Are you alone, scraplet?" Ratchet came from behind a device that was emanating the waves of energy floating over the young Seeker.

"Of course I am alone! I am always alone when I come here!" Scion hastily said, but then he saw the glint of amusement in the medic's optics. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Imply like Pits," Ratchet said firmly. "You've been influenced for a long time by that glitch-processing slagger, haven't you? Annoying voice, thinks the universe of himself?"

Scion's optics narrowed, but his wings quivered, giving away the hope he felt that maybe there was a solution for him. "He's not in here, and he was with me in the hallway."

"Alright, then, before the scheming pit-spawn figures out how to get through the wave-barrier I set up." Ratchet looked at the scraplet, and knew he was about to have a fight on his hands. "Megatron has been grooming you to be his pet Seeker, all your existence." Scion bridled, but Ratchet held up his hand to stop the words. "Scraplet, you may rub me wrong, but even Thundercracker admitted you're good at being a flier, and all that implies about your class."

"You spoke to Thundercracker? About me?"

"Slag yes. That's one mech who keeps his optics on and his faceplates shut!" Ratchet had been pleased, actually, to catch up with the Aerial Commander, to answer some questions he had about the current state of affairs. "Scraplet, I want you to succeed, and this fast-track upgrade is not going to let you do that. Because it's going to knock your processor sideways, and that rust-bitten cybershrew is going to get the jump on you. I've heard of a few other cases of firewall possession, and while it's rare, it's happened enough to make me a believer." After all, Ratchet had been present for Sunstreaker's rare appearances as the focal personality in Sideswipe's body.

"So… how do I keep that from happening?"

"Simple. We build two frames. One for you, at the right point of upgrade, and one for the slagger." Scion again bristled, wings hiking dangerously. "Can it, scraplet! We convince him to dive for the right one, you divert to the one built for you, and believe me, scraplet… by the time you reach true upgrade, you will smell like pure high-grade to your Lord, after him having to cope with Starscream in reality again."

"Really?"

"Really."

Scion hesitated a moment more, then nodded. "Use my designs for mine!" he reinforced.

"Anything, to be able to slag Starscream's plans," Ratchet promised him.

* * *

><p>Building two frames was just as easy as building one, Ratchet decided, which was to say not a slagging bit at all. The fully built Seeker frame was easier, he admitted; he'd learned the anatomy and schematics of his nemeses early in the war. It was harder to do the next to last intermediate frame, judging off Scion's scans and some simple tests to know how much more capacity the mechling was ready for. Still, even with two frames to build, with Scion willingly hiding the extra appropriations of materials, there were times that Ratchet could not be elbow deep in the engineering, and that was when he continued looking into the furtive Autobot communications.<p>

He realized, later, that perhaps he should have taken Scion into confidence about when he left the palace, and when he expected to get back. It might have been a better idea than simply finding himself without any fall-back plan after walking in to the wrong meeting in the underbelly of Megatropolis. He'd been following the bursts of communications on one of the older secure bands, thinking he was getting close to the source, and turned a corner obscured by dense steam and a spark shower from an exposed conduit.

His optics took in the four Autobots there, all believed missing or destroyed in action, an instant before one of them fired a ray device at him that shorted through Ratchet's fields. His last coherent thought was processing a femme's voice saying his name in surprise.

_Defensive shielding offline. Weaponry offline. Motor systems offline. Processor defragmentation needed. Optical and audial systems online. Vocalizer at minimal functionality. Self-repair in progress. Reroute to secondary systems, y/n?_

Ratchet verified the reroute before he even thought about powering his optics up. It took time to get all his systems powered up from cold boot, but they were designed to keep him functioning in circumstances like this, where his primaries had failed for whatever reason. His diagnosis was a one-shot nullifier. Nasty device, but too power-hungry for full usage during the war, thank goodness. His system would be immune to that particular ray's frequency from here on, but recalibration would make it a threat against him anyhow.

Even as he cold-booted his back-ups, he relied on his audials, trying to make out what was there. He was far more blind with his energy fields down, in terms of making sense of anything. His frame was in contact with fields, certainly, but the raw touch of them was too overwhelming for him to decipher without the filter of his defensive shields.

Sounds said two frames in the room, relying on the spacing of the hums of power-systems. One was thrumming at a higher clock-rate than the other. Possibly the femme he vaguely recalled, but also potentially a mini.

"Ratchet."

Femme. Who knew him. His scattered processor pulled up her designation, based on color and frame class, but it rejected the thought, because Arcee herself had confirmed that loss to Ironhide personally on arrival at Earth.

"Ratchet, medic, Prime-cadre, last known mission: find the Allspark. Current status, prisoner of the Autobots. Crime: consorting with the enemy."

"LIKE PITS!" The roar came out with static in it, as blue optics blazed to life in absolute rage to see the blue… heavily rebuilt, still scarred over… femme listing off his details.

"So he was faking," the big, heavy war-build to the side commented.

"Hush, Grim. Let me handle this." The femme smiled, and Ratchet felt a churning in his tanks at the image for some reason. "Now that you are talking again, Ratchet, I repeat: consorting with the enemy."

"Kind of hard to do, Chromia, when the damn war's been over for half a vorn, and I'm here on Prime's own request!" Ratchet snapped at her.

"Really, Ratchet. And you are going to accept the orders of a mech who let how many deaths go unpunished, unavenged? Did you even stop and grieve for any of them before you keeled under to Megatron's so-called peace? How long was Ironhide nothing but dust before you let your vows go?" she demanded.

"Iron…" Ratchet's optics went wide as they could in shock. "Chromia, Arcee reported you as being deactivated to us, confirming it and Elita One's extinguishing. But I swear to you on my oath as a healer and Prime's own mech, Ironhide lives!"

* * *

><p>Megatron settled into the temple complex, pleased that it was, at long last, whole and functional. The dead souls of their race, released from the universe around, were returning here to the point where the Allspark had once rested. Those energies had been feared lost, the experiences cast into the dimensional voids, and yet Megatron could sit and watch the swirl of ever growing energies.<p>

They were not all here, not by any sense of measure. It would take time, a resource Megatron needed to see the rest of his plans to fruition. No, he came here to see the growing energy siphoning in, swirling and gathering in the glyphs of the temple walls. He felt more connected to his visions of the future when he was in here, surrounded by casualties of his lifelong ambition.

Granted, he did not look at it in such a manner; it was so easy to see how wrongly the Fallen had manipulated his original vision for their race. He could admit that listening to Sentinel Prime's shaping of the end of the war had been a bad judgment call. None of it was truly his fault; his design had been pure.

All he had to do this time was keep his dreams pure and unadulterated. That was why no one else was allowed to despoil the temple with their energies. It would remain pure, his sanctuary, until the time came for him to initiate the final steps.

* * *

><p>Soundwave noted that this exploration tour of the Autobot medic was longer than previous outings from the palace. He considered making Scion aware of this, as Scion was technically in charge of their guest's safety.<p>

Perhaps the length of the excursion would help eliminate the unknown factor Ratchet posed, though. There were still many mechs who resented the peace, and others with grievances against Autobot atrocities.

He neglected to send an alert to the Seeker currently on aerial maneuvers with the Rainmakers.

* * *

><p>Longarm walked the line of mechs, inspecting their battle readiness. He was hard, a grueling taskmaster to his fellow brood-mates and the ones created after Cybertron was clear enough to support the use of the code-banks again. The code banks, bearing the Fallen's master programming code and the code donations that Starscream had approved as 'crisp' enough, lacking viruses and mutations, had been accessed twice now. Considering that the material was heavily weighted to the flying classes (which Hook admitted was sensible, given their far more capable shielding), Longarm was pleased that the broods had not produced any Seekers, Rotors, Transports, or their various flying ilk.<p>

Let Thundercracker keep his aerial command as the defense force for now; in time, the ground-based mechs would install more than adequate artillery and shielding to dispense with the need of them.

"All mechs will fall into pre-assigned battle groups," Longarm instructed. "When the chronometer reads at the zero point, all teams will disperse. Battle will commence one breem later. Stay within the confinement zones, and try to survive long enough to eliminate the others. These are the only rules of today's battle exercise!"

A multi-voiced roar answered him; they were ready, even as they fell into their groupings, to prove their combat and strategy skills in the war games.

From an observatory room, Hook radiated pleasure and pride in his ward's superb handling of the others. No doubt, by the end of the exercises, Longarm and his command group would be the victors.

* * *

><p>Blaster was sprawled out on the floor of his chamber, Scorponok laying atop his frame, contemplating the noise of the city. He was not as good as his mentor at actually hacking the public processes of mechs at large, but sometimes he could slip into one or two minds, letting him sample life away from the palace.<p>

"Scorp, I'm bored."

The symbiont responded by brushing his chelae along the side panels of his bonded partner, trying to soothe Blaster's energy levels with a manipulation of the sensor nodes.

Blaster laughed, and then wrestled those strong pincers away, shaking his helm. "That tickles and you know it!" He hugged his partner to his frame, then stood up. "We're going out."

Scorponok made a noise of protest.

"I know I'm not supposed to go alone. Well, I won't be. You'll be with me. We need to practice that anyway." He turned so that the open socket for his symbiont was exposed, and though Scorponok was unsure of this venture, the call of 'home/security/belonging' was too strong. He moved, making the small transformations necessary to fit in the compartment space, adding his armor and shields to Blaster's already formidable defenses. In time, Blaster would have other partners, with their own niches in his frame. Some would even be adapted to subspace carrying. But for now, Scorponok was his only partner, and he reveled in that feeling.

* * *

><p>"You should be pestering that medic," Starscream growled as Scion luxuriated in a deep, warm oil bath.<p>

"He's got all he needs from me, and my tail fins need to repair, glitch!" Scion glared across the way at his ghostly mentor. "I had the right response for that incoming laser fire."

"Shove off into the chasm! It was low-powered and hardly a scuff on the plating!" Starscream did not reply to the fact that it had been his sudden jockeying for control in the mock battle that had caused the damage. "Why is he able to block me from the chamber?"

"He's got equipment that radiates signatures similar to the wild-wave radiation. Apparently it's one thing he uses to cure plating as he finishes it," Scion lied smoothly. "I asked about it, and he went into the benefits it gives the plating, making it superior in its annealing while keeping its weight down.

"Hmm, that would be beneficial in the long run."

Scion locked optics on the annoying specter. "You will not get my frame," he said in full confidence.

Starscream just laughed at him.

* * *

><p>Chromia reared back, even as Grimlock took a more threatening stance. "What do you mean? The details we… gathered from a few previous guests stated firmly that Ironhide was not at the final battle of the war, and that his demise had been the point where Sentinel revealed his true allegiance!" Her tones left the medic sickly aware that forceful interrogations of possibly innocent soldiers just obeying their orders had taken place.<p>

Ratchet could not stop his spark from aching, remembering that press of events, keeping him from mourning the mech that had been his deepest, truest connection within the cadre he served. He recalled Prime's discovery that the gun had not disintegrated Sentinel's spark casing, and that hurried communication concerning Ironhide's remains. His processor roamed over those months of getting to know Patronus, once a new frame was built, and the revelation that Ironhide himself had survived, despite the trauma, at the spark-memory level. While Ironhide now was subtly different than the Ironhide Chromia would remember best, he was alive.

"Sentinel Prime destroyed Ironhide's frame, processor, and memory core, yes," Ratchet said, watching the flicker of Chromia's optics as she felt that loss anew. "But his spark-case was intact, as was the spark case of both twins we lost the same day. Ironhide's was placed in a full-size frame, and onlined back into service with the temporary designation of 'Patronus'." Ratchet gave a short bark of laughter, even as he manually prevented his shielding from coming on, now that his secondary systems were handling the full needs of his frame. "Stubborn mech taught us all that things do go spark deep, though. While his guardian protocols are more his focus, Patronus proved to be Ironhide minus his memories. And he's made quite a path through reacquiring those… mostly by seducing mechs into doing memory merges instead of just integrating his last back up!" Ratchet's annoyance for that habit was tempered with the raw affection under it.

It was also so very much like Ironhide to find a way to cheat around something that would take far too much time, inactivity, and being out of touch with the rest of the situation.

"He lives. And he accepted peace?" Chromia asked, stunned.

"He didn't have any say when Optimus Prime hammered out the agreement, being in the tank at that point." Ratchet grimaced. "Chromia, no one on either side was one hundred percent pleased by the choices Optimus made, but our race was on the brink of extinction. The problem we've had, and what I can make out of Hook's own notes, is that there's not much in the way of pure code to work from for the ancient method of replication. Optimus knew it instinctively; he's still got a connection to the Allspark's coding, even if it has been destroyed that lets him know that. As for Megatron… he surrendered. In full sight of our allies and those warriors able to see the battle."

"Megatron would never!" Grimlock snapped, surging forward and pushing Chromia out of the way to glare at the medic.

"Don't know what rock you crawled out from under, rust-bolt, but even that glitch-taken slag heap has had enough!" Ratchet barked right back, unafraid of the one time leader of a very specialized Autobot unit. They had been used, time and again, to establish beachheads on worlds that had been heavily Decepticon dominated. And then, shortly after the Allspark was jettisoned, the team had been wiped out.

Except, Ratchet amended, apparently not.

Grimlock pulled a powerful arm back, digits curling in a fist for a blow, but Chromia's hand wrapped around the upper arm, catching and holding it.

It was a solid reminder that while the femmes were rare, why they should never be underestimated for all their small size. Chromia, joule per mass, was far stronger than any Autobot mech Ratchet knew. She always had been. That had been a large part of the attraction for Ironhide.

"Grimlock, go check on our team. I'll handle Ratchet's debriefing from here." Chromia's tone was steel-strong, and the elite warrior gave way despite his anger. Grimlock left the room, the door sliding shut with the whine of a lock engaging. Chromia focused fully on the medic in front of her, considering her words.

"The war's over." Ratchet could not help but put the protest there, knowing now that he was a prisoner, and that possibly neither of the two he had seen were processing anything beyond the need to avenge fallen allies and friends. Chromia, like Arcee, had belonged to the cadre of Elita One. The bonds each femme had forged with mechs in making their alliance at the early part of the war had always been secondary to that connection they had shared.

"There is no justice for anyone, for it to be over this way."

"There was never any justice in this slagging war and you know it!" Ratchet roared at her. "Are you really going to keep perpetuating the hate and violence when we have a chance to grow and rebuild? Is this what Elita One would have wanted, when there is a chance to save our race?"

He expected the blow across his face plates, damped down the HUD warnings, and ignored the fact his left optic ceased to work from the power of that strike.

"Funny. I remember her different," he said in a low tone.

Chromia's digits sparked before she forced the hand down, and stalked to the door.

"You will be repatriated, after our strike against the unlawful rulers imprisoning our home-world," she said tightly. She keyed the door open, sweeping out, and then Ratchet was alone with his secondary systems at his beck and call… but no way to actually use that advantage fully.

* * *

><p>Scorponok fluttered a little in the port he was ensconced in as something pinged on his sensors to the side of the alley they were in. Blaster slowed some, aware it was not the safest place to be, but also curious. He initiated a full link between himself and his symbiont, so that he could process the data directly, just as Soundwave had taught him to.<p>

::Earth metals. Primitively processed fuels.::

::Which would have to be the Autobot,:: Blaster extrapolated. ::Is he plotting against us?:: Even as Blaster asked it, he knew he had a responsibility here. If the Autobot was here to cripple the High Command, Blaster needed to take him into custody. If he was not… then the Autobot might be in trouble and Blaster would need to rescue him, as Megatron himself had vouched for Ratchet's safety to the Prime on Mars.

::Allies?:: Scorponok suggested, knowing his partner was still young and not fully upgraded.

Blaster's recklessly happy emotions in the link squashed that notion, and the symbiont readied himself to protect this partner at any and all costs.

* * *

><p>Ratchet re-purposed a lot of his energies into systems he had already sharpened over the course of the war. His audial processing was keen, able to hear the least frequency of energy humming in a mech's system. So it was that he could barely make out sounds of the two constructor-mechs grumbling and talking out in the passageways. Snippets of words like 'explosives' and 'temple' made Ratchet's energon freeze in his tubes. He had caught on fast that Megatron's obsessive nature had fixated on the temple he had built over the location of the AllSpark's former location. If an Autobot attack happened there, Megatron would declare the truce over, without a doubt, and right now he had the numbers in his favor.<p>

He had to figure out how to get free, how to warn Megatron. His communication array was out; the back-up system was far too short-range for him to reach the Slag-maker, or the rust-bit. On top of that, he felt like he had to personally stop this, to not only represent Optimus's commitment to peace, but to try and shield his fellow Autobots from the fall out of any attempted attack.

He'd never be able to face Ironhide if he didn't manage to keep Chromia from being destroyed. The entire situation with the femmes had always been a sticky mess of diplomacy and alliance. When Elita One had offered, as leader of her class, to bond with Optimus Prime, none of his cohort could have guessed that the political liaison would become something more, something deeper. And not a one of them had ever expected the crusty old mech that Ironhide was to turn into a new-sparked mech in his first relationship over Elita's lieutenant.

Like Seekers, the femmes had unusual abilities and complex cultural structures that left them outside the main society. And, like the Seekers, they were far more suited to warfare than many on the Autobot side of things. Ratchet had helped Ironhide secure the bond he sought with Chromia both out of love for his partner, and out of the sheer pragmatic need to insure the femmes were fully on their side of the war.

The sounds outside his prison died away, and Ratchet quickly started working on getting out of the prison. No sooner had he managed to cut an access panel to the controls for the door than that pits-taken portal slid right open, and he found himself staring at a Decepticon mechling backed up by the arachnid symbiont. For a brief instant, Ratchet resented the mechling, as its designation came to mind, and he remembered the original Blaster he had known. That was pushed aside, as Ratchet let the full designation glyph roll in over the top of the emotion, distinguishing this one from the lost Autobot commander. In fact, it helped Ratchet focus on peace more, as Blaster's glyph signified that he had been named for Soundwave's honored enemy.

"Do you want to extinguish Megatron?" Blaster asked the medic, his weaponry visible and charged, same as Scorponok's.

"Frequently," Ratchet snarled. "But not when peace hinges on him staying functional!" The flick of intrusion was fended off easily enough, before Ratchet just cocked his helm at the young mech. "Soundie never told you that medics are harder to hack than any other mech? Well, get used to it." He flipped into his alt form, glad that the terrain favored wheels over hover cushions. "Keep up with me, rust-bit! We've got to stop the war from exploding open again!"

Blaster's faceplates split into a wide grin at the thought of getting involved in something bigger than minding command's communications.

* * *

><p>"He's in there," Grimlock growled softly. "Finally…" His optics pulsed with a tinge of red, remembering his lost mates, destroyed because of Megatron's war. Chromia laid a hand on his arm, warning him to keep his control.<p>

"Pipes and Swerve are in position. It took a little more time to blind the drones on surveillance, but the explosives are ready." She felt her spark cycle, tumbling over Ratchet's revelations, his questions, and she had to force herself to remember Elita's broken frame, had to remember the nightmare of existence she had faced when the Junkions had salvaged that base.

They had remade her out of their own desires, but she had escaped them, had found Grimlock, and come to Cybertron. Both of them had been on a moon when the Space Bridge had firmly destroyed all hope for Cybertron, or so they thought. Evading the Decepticons was second nature, and they had made it to the surface with unformed plans of revenge. Meeting up with Pipes and Swerve, two of the few constructors who had never gone over, had helped them begin planning. Their covert operation was about to pay off, and then there would be justice.

"Megatron gets slagged today," she told her partner, herself, and pushed the whispers of Ratchet's words away.

* * *

><p>The energy was growing agitated, swirling and forming visible glyphs on the walls. Megatron watched, made his optics focus and reach inside for the knowledge of how to read the more ancient symbols of their people. He had been in deep meditation, working through the martial arts that he preferred for such moments as when his patience wore thin. He knew he had to retain his grip on that patience, for none of his plans would come to fruition very quickly, save perhaps one.<p>

Danger. Disruption. Discord.

In times gone by, and none that long ago, the glyphs would have brought a smile to his face. After all, mayhem had been his stock in trade.

Now, he knew anger. He had plans! Dreams! And someone dared to bring an intrusion into his wreaking?

His weapon heated and whined, the powerful cannon ready to set destruction on its terms, at its wielder's discretion.

* * *

><p>::What are we up against?:: Blaster asked, even as Scorponok shared tracking data with the Autobot. His aerial communication form was similar enough to some of the human unmanned drones that Ratchet could almost forget that he was actively working with the enemy, instead of his allies.<p>

Only, that was completely the point Chromia was missing, wasn't it? There were no more enemies and allies; they were supposed to be one race again.

::Explosives. At least four rogue Autobots with too much loss and not enough anchorage in the new reality of our existences.::

::And I'm not telling Soundwave because…::

Ratchet almost snapped off the kind of reply his Blaster would have gotten from him. It was actually uncanny, the way this rust-bit managed to seem so much like his namesake. Instead, he processed his reply as carefully as he could before saying it, just to make certain he did not cause the young mech to turn on him then and there. However, it was still a blunt fact of existence, and if the mechling didn't know it, he was in a world of trouble as a Decepticon.

::Because of all the mechs on this planet, there's only one with the ability to fully scan and touch every mind lacking in firewalls the strength of mine or Megatron's or possibly one of his own symbionts. I can't trust that he's not aware of the plot and using it to his own advantage.::

His shields were fully up, and he was slowly coaxing power back to his primary weapons system as they made their way along the path Scorponok showed them. He was fully prepared to use whatever it took to protect himself, if the scraplet decided to fight over that accusation of distrust.

Blaster surprised him though, by neither bridling nor getting a dig in of his own. ::I'd trust Scion, in this.::

That was both a good idea and a bad idea, in Ratchet's opinion. The Seekerling was devout in his obedience and loyalty to Megatron, but seeded through with all of Starscream's impulsiveness.

::Why don't you start trying to scan for the Autobots in question, and figure out how they plan to detonate the explosives? It's obvious the 'temple' reference I heard is where we are going. If me and you and your friend here can't handle them, then you call for Scion,:: Ratchet offered.

Blaster did a little dip in the air. ::That sounds like a plan, Ratchet.::

* * *

><p>Megatron stepped out of the temple, the door sealing once more behind him, and he realized the drones were all inactive. That was enough for him to intensify his shields just before chaos snapped loose. As always, his processor broke the field apart in the form of threats, prioritizing his shots. To one side, he saw two mechs of the constructor class breaking from cover and running toward the temple wall. Scanning over that wall revealed devices he knew did not belong, and he fired an absent shot to disrupt their path. However, he was already tracking two far more dangerous threats, and the energy in that shot was just enough to disable, not kill.<p>

His tactical display revealed a name for each of the two heavily armored and armed Cybertronians. Grimlock, a fighter that had risen up out of the population to become a formidable Autobot commander, eventually leading his own special team, was not one Megatron could dismiss lightly. It was said that Grimlock had contested Prime's authority once, and that Prime had only held his own by sheer stubborn will. The other was listed as Chromia, one of the elusive femme class, and known to be gifted with an incredibly powerful frame and weapons to match.

He was almost amused to learn both were listed as deactivated, via the files that Prime had been willing to share concerning known deactivations on both sides.

"You dare intrude?" Megatron thundered at the pair already on temple grounds, but his optics never swayed from the oncoming fighters.

"We dare plenty, Megatron!" Grimlock roared back, rushing in behind the shots Chromia fired to keep him covered, his sword ready to meet the tyrant.

"Pits take it all, stop this!" came a voice that held little respect for either of them or anyone else in this skirmish. It did not stop Megatron from firing, his blast mostly deflected by the shielding of the other mech, nor did it keep him from changing his hand for the energy flail to meet the sword. His tactical display allowed for the medic, marking him out as a potential threat, but not immediate. Two smaller blips identified immediately as allies; Blaster and Scorponok were on scene, going to deal with the two constructors, it seemed. He would have to be wary of them; they were influenced by Soundwave, who still wished to take power for himself.

"Ratchet, I am warning you, stay back!" Chromia yelled at the brightly colored medic.

"Slag it, Chromia, I won't let you destroy our race by restarting the war!"

The words processed even as Grimlock and he met, flail wrapping around sword with a hiss of energy expended. Ratchet would take the peaceful route, if he had a choice. Megatron knew this, knew that his brother's emissary could do no less.

However, his temple had come under attack, when it was still focusing so much of his drive. He could not let that go unpunished!

His attention narrowed in, as Grimlock gave as much damage as he was taking. New injuries along his cannon side only served to further infuriate Megatron, driving him closer to the rage that had once fueled his need to conquer and destroy. Having finally taken up his position of protecting the future of his race, and these Autobots wished him destroyed.

As he fought, every cable and servo struggling to maintain his dominance against the powerful fighter, he was aware of Ratchet actually closing with the femme The medic was struggling to take Chromia down and keeping her from firing. Behind him, Scorponok and Blaster seemed to be handling the two they had engaged. All he needed was to find the right opening in Grimlock's strategy to exploit, and this battle would be his for the taking.

Grimlock pushed inside of the reach of his own weapon, closer to Megatron, thinking to minimize the use of the flail. That was the opening Megatron had been looking for, transforming his other hand into the devastating hook he liked for close-in fighting. He slammed it into the open side of his opponent, catching cabling, hydraulics, and circuitry to rip free in a vicious pull. It forced Grimlock back, stumbling, struggling to get his footing when that side was not responding correctly, and Megatron pressed his attack.

::NO! You PIT-SPAWNED MEGALOMANIAC!:: The communication came through strongly on the conversational band, one of the few that Autobots and Decepticons had kept sharing over the long war. ::Kill him, and where…: The send broke, and a sharp, breaking keen of static and noise erupted from the mech's vocalizer, even as he tried to use his mass against the femme who had just injured him severely. Megatron registered the shout, the attack, and the incredibly stupid attempt at continuing a fight to protect…

…to protect Megatron himself. Whispers of his plans, his dreams, and the counsel of those spirits already returned to the temple brought cold, sober logic into place, and Megatron saw the truth. By rights of the treaty, the four attacking Autobots were his to destroy at will. They had engaged in hostilities against his rule. In the past, he would have done just that.

Now, however, Megatron had no wish of such vengeful spirits in his temple. It suited him, on those grounds, to show mercy and make them continue to exist in their memory's prisons. Their continued existence would buy him more time, show the Autobots his new-found 'compassion', and work in his favor.

A careful shot at the femme who was overpowering the massive medic took her right leg's functions from her, cutting her balance and giving Ratchet the time he needed to use his craft against her. She slumped into a medical stasis as Ratchet managed to hardline into her and force her firewalls down long enough to initiate a hack. In the time that took him, Megatron did just enough damage to his opponent to force him offline as well, the fighter's spark still pulsing and calling, taunting him.

"Blaster, inform Bruticus he is to come and take the attackers into custody. They are not to be harmed, but they will rely solely on self-repair to recover," Megatron ordered, returning his weapons to their quiescent state, straightening to look at Ratchet as he said it. The medic grimaced, but he understood. It would delay the attackers from becoming a threat, and with any luck Path Finder would be back in orbit by that point.

"As you command, my lord," Blaster replied.

Megatron walked over to Ratchet, inspecting the damage. "I'm fairly certain you are not going to want Hook looking at that," he commented idly, taking in the smoke wafting up out of a hole in Ratchet's shoulder, and the one lower, around his waist.

"Do I get a choice?" Ratchet asked, letting Megatron see that he knew he had been aware of how close he came to taking his own life in his hands by being so defiant.

Megatron reached down and helped the medic to his feet with a mighty heave. "I wouldn't let him. But I would introduce you to Knock Out."

"He's still… of course he is. That one's more slippery than a glitch-mouse," Ratchet grumbled.

* * *

><p>Megatron was vaguely amused, Ratchet decided, even though the tyrant was up and prowling around the fully hardened, upgraded frame.<p>

"You did not leave room for the frame of his current design to integrate?" Megatron questioned.

"Do I ask you why you spare this rock and blast that one instead, oh benevolent dictator?" Ratchet snapped irritably. He rubbed at the metal plating sealing his armor until he could return home and let First Aid fix it correctly. Ratchet did not trust Hook at all, but Knock Out was only a smidgen better in his books. Megatron glared at him over one shoulder, baring his sharp dentaplates. Ratchet huffed air out of his intakes, and walked over to open the chest plates, showing a functional spark shard growing in a chamber. "Due to your desire for an expedited frame enhancement, Scion gave me permission to fission his spark, and begin it acclimatizing to the frame as it was built. As you can see, the shard is robust and swiftly forming a proper sphere. This will allow him to move his full consciousness into the fully designed frame, without having to go through the usual learning curve of fixing his old frame into the integration procedure and waiting for the new frame nanites to make the final connections. It will be supervised by me, and the frame left behind will be put to good use, I am certain," Ratchet finished sharing with the warrior, a sneer on his features. Then, just because he could not resist taking one step too many (a trait he had acquired from Ironhide, he was certain), "I've had a bit of experience with full frame transplants."

"Mmm." Megatron let his optics show a cruel pleasure in sharing the very memory at the top of Ratchet's mind, Jazz's near-destruction still setting Ratchet's fields to a frenzy of anger and helplessness in that moment.

"You can leave now. Scion is due any moment, and he doesn't need to be nervous for this."

"He will not be. I have trained him to be an exceptional Decepticon." Pointedly, Megatron went and sat in the large chair to one side, ready to watch the spectacle. Ratchet consigned his entire lineage to the depths of a dark matter cloud for all eternity, as this was going to make it more difficult to pull off his deal with Scion.

"Do whatever you wish, then," Ratchet growled, readying the transfer cables.

He had just finished arranging everything, including closing that spark chamber tightly, and medically confirming the frame would work as demanded, when Scion came in. The Seekerling was arrogant and brash as he entered, a pose that did not change on seeing Megatron, though Ratchet watched the wings hike up some in pleasure. Poor Sparkling had no idea what his desire was fixated on, Ratchet supposed.

"Come sit down, and we'll get you connected," Ratchet said gruffly.

"Of course," Scion said in complete confidence.

* * *

><p>Starscream was suspicious, even as he followed Scion into the medic's chambers. He knew something was afoot, as Scion was supremely confident he would win this coming battle of wills. However, Starscream saw the new frame, an improvement on the ancient alpha frame he had once known, and could not help but feel the lust for life rising. The scrap of a mech that had served him as an anchor was soon to be eliminated, his life usurped for Starscream's glory.<p>

The ghostly presence noted Megatron, and a smile twitched on his features. So the warrior had come to greet his pet project upon full maturity. This would be such a perfect stage to take all the attention on! He moved, overlapping Scion just as Ratchet was hooking up the new frame for transfer of memories and personality, fighting down the fierce resistance to take command fully. He whipped at Scion with all of Scion's insecurities, his flaws, his failings as only Starscream could know them, having been there all along. Scion shriveled beneath the onslaught, the bright personality falling , twisting toward darkness and oblivion. Starscream was winning, with a glorious reward at the end of it all. He tackled that glowing spark energy within the new frame, imprinting his experience on it, claiming it as his own. Once he was securely anchored to it, and knowing Scion was trying to rally and win free of the old frame, Starscream gleefully rejected the transfer cables, pushing them out as heis first physical command of the new frame that was all his!

The instant the cables started falling away, Ratchet moved. His monitoring of the rust-bit's vitals told him that whatever war for dominance had taken a toll on the partial spark powering Scion's immature form. Its splintered mate had drawn hard against it during the personality transfer, and Ratchet had very little time to stabilize it as a viable life source of its own. That had been the risk all along, in knowingly fracturing a healthy spark to power two mechs. Each part would call to the other, an inevitable side effect not unlike a pair of twinned mechs. However, Scion had consented to the risk, showing more sense than thinking he could beat Starscream back in a will to will contest.

Megatron, for his part, did not move as Ratchet bodily picked up the failing frame and carried it into the next room, where a second frame, of the optimum size for a next to last upgrade waited. Ratchet hastily installed the smaller frame inside the open cavity, plugging in to force-boot the frame integration process. Had he been human, he might have held his breath, waiting to see if the process would cut off the drain on Scion's spark, forcing it to independence.

Four kliks passed before the spark he was monitoring gave a sudden surge, and the tendrils of neuroprocessing cabling began to extend from the smaller frame to the larger one. Ratchet smiled, exultant that he had managed to save the Sparkling, while also insuring Megatron would always have at least one wrench in his plans, a wrench named Starscream.

Megatron allowed the medic to continue his covert plot as if he had no idea what was transpiring in the other room. He stood, walking over, clawed digits scratching over wings that were beginning to imprint with the pre-war colors of a familiar pattern. One claw traced up and caressed a neck cable as the Seeker came fully online, drawing out a moan that was not as high or harsh as it once had been on the audials.

"My lord Megatron," was said, but while it would have been sincere from Scion, this voice twisted it into a mocking salutation.

Megatron closed his hands around the throat, not crushing, but with the firm reminder of his strength. "Starscream." He let the name fall with warning and amusement.

"How?" Starscream demanded, though he did not deny the designation.

"I always know when you are plotting, my treacherous second."

He had listened to those spirits who had returned. He had heard Shockwave's voice decrying his fate. He had noted the other warriors, heard and realized those that had died most recently were the ones coming quickest to his temple.

Starscream's voice had never been heard. And yet, there was Scion, Megatron's perfect experiment to gain that crafty method of thinking without the disloyalty. Scion had evolved too close to true, betraying more influence than just that of his Combaticon guards and Megatron's teaching. It had not been hard at all for Megatron to surmise that his difficult second had cheated his fate.

"Megatron, I swear I only did so to be of service!" Starscream protested, aware he did not have near the control of this frame yet to be able to fight the warrior and escape with his new existence.

Megatron laughed, bringing his claws up to catch the pointed chin. "Service to yourself." But that… that will do for now, Starscream." He pulled back, helm turning to listen as Ratchet worked to save the Seekerling. He had faith Ratchet would. Prime's medic had been strangely gifted in ways Hook would envy, if Hook had room in his processor to acknowledge another's skills.

Yes, his ploy had worked. He had Starscream to counter Soundwave now, and Scion would survive to plague Starscream, giving Megatron the edge and space he needed for the dreams of Cybertron's future to mature.

Starscream twitched as he pushed up and away from the berth, lurching once toward the other room. Megatron folded his talons around the tip of a wing, catching and holding without doing more than warning the pressure sensors of the potential crushing damage. Starscream's optics blazed as they turned on him, making something long missing flare in Megatron's thoughts and feelings.

"He served his purpose!"

"For you, perhaps. For me?" Megatron gave a low, throaty purr. "I am looking forward to his final maturity with anticipation," he told the the arrogant Seeker in his grasp, letting his fields ripple just slightly with hunger.

"As if he could ever!" Starscream screeched indignantly, flaring his own fields possessively. Megatron growled, pushing Starscream toward the door. As the mech got his balance, he flexed his new wings invitingly, then haughtily walked out of the medic's quarters.

The Lord High Protector followed, stalking his prey, leaving the younger Seeker to awaken in Ratchet's care alone.


	3. Arc Three

There was little that Starscream did not dare dream of, as he polished away the paint transfers from his... greeting with Megatron. He had conquered destruction itself, surviving the loss of his physical form for a half vorn. His ambitions would know fruition this time, his sights set on a revitalized Cybertron capable of being the base for an eager war machine the galaxy would tremble before.

That much of Megatron's slower, long-range planning, he could agree with. Let the Autobots grow complacent with peace, and begin to chafe for the very war that had shaped all of them. It would come again, rightly turned outward, until Cybertron had mastered those races and resources that rightly belonged to them!

First thing, now that Megatron had ceased to mar his finish, was to tackle taking back his rightful place. At least, for once, his trine mates had been useful, holding the power in their hands while he was distracted. He inspected his frame intently, seeing the high shine and vibrant colors in it with pride, before he strode through the too empty hallways to the formal flight ground.

::SEEKERS, REPORT!::

That full-bodied send, flavored by his intonations, branded by his personal signature, burned across the common band of all the fixed wing fighters within his Class. It was high time they stopped doing grunt work for Hook's minions, and started performing their primary task of finding the resources needed.

Scion, still recovering from the crippling method of how they had managed both tasks, scowled in his sealed quarters, and promptly tuned Starscream out. Along the rest of the band, however, other voices sprang up questioning, doubting, curious... until one voice silenced them all.

::WHO DARES?::

The fury in Thundercracker's send was strong enough to make Starscream take a step back for balance, the frequency pushing his equilibrium off in its resonance.

::Come see for yourself, my doubting wingmate!:: Starscream snapped back over the frequencies. He could already feel the vibrations in the air as Seekers from all over the city abandoned their tasks to come and find out the truth for themselves. Making the showdown with Thundercracker so public would serve him well.

* * *

><p>Longarm, watching the needed fast transports vanish from work sites, lodged a complaint with Hook. He filed it away as one more reason the fliers were out-dated as a class. In his vision of Cybertron, their class would be relegated to ferry duty and little else. Hook, in turn, complained to Soundwave, who was also suffering from the antics with a crushing processor ache of so much chatter on frequencies that were, at best, chaos incarnate to his monitoring.<p>

The complaints, rather than stopping with Soundwave, were passed further up. Normally, it would be Blaster's fate to detail the reports to their leader, if Megatron was in residence. However, that illogical creation had absconded in the Autobot space ship.

Soundwave sent Ravage with the report, known causes, and a request from the work force commanders that the Seekers be ordered back to their work.

Megatron, instead, took the report with a laugh that rang through the halls, and invited Ravage to join him on the palace parapet that allowed a good view of the growing Seeker congregation, trines and duos falling into their customary flights all around the field, while Starscream, resplendently shining even at this distance, stood in the center of the field, awaiting Thundercracker.

"Finally. Something entertaining," Megatron rumbled, hand coming to rest on the hunter's head as they watched.

Ravage purred agreement.

* * *

><p>Astrotrain was not, technically, a Seeker. He, and others of his abilities, were more closely related to the larger transport class that had long since vanished into the depths of space rather than cope with the war. He did not, however, like not knowing what was going on with the only fliers he considered decent company. Rotors He shuddered just tended to be plain strange, and none really knew if Octane or Blitzwing had actually made it through the war with the bounty on their helms that had sent them into deep hiding.<p>

He landed off to one side, perched atop a convenient roof, and zoomed his optics in for the spectacle taking place on the field. He could not help the frown on his face as he recognized those paint markings. So the voice was part of a larger trick, it seemed, as this impostor settled to the task of proving himself. Astrotrain had to admit that he was going to enjoy watching Thundercracker win a fight for once.

* * *

><p>Thundercracker came in with his speed bleeding fast into the sonic waves that had earned him his name, bombarding the mech on the field. He followed in behind the waves, crashing into the mech who had withstood the barrage. The watching Seekers kept their optics on the battle, entranced by what was purely their own brand of savagery.<p>

No blades, no whips, no lasers came into play. This was the brute force of one highly volatile flier against one who was cunning and swift, passion running high. Fields sparked off one another, talons sliced into lines and pulled, spattering fluids all over both, and armor plates were mangled into hanging shreds of metal. Still, neither fighter seemed to be getting the upper hand in the fight.

There wasn't a mech looking on who did not doubt the impasse would soon be broken; Thundercracker had resisted a number of assassination attempts and outright challenges for dominance. Sometimes, it came down to the key factor of his wingmate. Surely the wingmate would pop in and end this any moment now, the unpredictable teleportation always a factor that worked in Thundercracker's favor.

What happened next left chaos and confusion in its wake, because it should have been impossible. The sound of mass suddenly occupying space that it had not moments before had not even fully materialized in audials before it was joined by the eerie noise of Starscream's signature blaster weaponry, his arm jerked back at an awkward angle that had _accurately targeted where Skywarp appeared_! The teleporter fell back in a stagger, sparks and static dancing through his systems as the low-powered blast went through his unshielded frame. Very few knew it took his defenses offline as he popped from point to point. Fewer still could make the calculations and aim in the microseconds that his defenses were down. No one, save his trine, should ever have been able to tell precisely where he would emerge from a teleport!

The rip of sensor and system damage to his mate tore through Thundercracker's awareness in ways that his own never could, and his processor locked around what had just happened in shock. It took all his ability to push the aggressive mech away from him, but he did, getting enough space to really look at the mech who had stirred up his emotional minefield.

* * *

><p>"Well-played, my traitor," Megatron rumbled, analyzing that strike. In one move, Starscream had proven his domination of the Air Commander, and proven his identity. It felt good to know his second had returned with all his craft and cunning in place.<p>

It would make the future all that more rewarding to pit himself against such skill.

* * *

><p>"Starscream," Thundercracker wheezed out, struts stiffening, wings flared high and proud, even as he knew he was defeated.<p>

"Oh yes," the named mech purred, full of pride in himself. His optics moved from Thundercracker to the assembled Seekers. "There's been a change in the command of our class," Starscream purred. "Hasn't there, Thundercracker?"

"Yes Air Commander."

A few Seekers twitched nervously, but not a one of them wanted to test themselves against this newcomer with too many vorns of experience. Not today. Not without knowing what tricks lurked in that shiny new frame, and not without letting Starscream prove his flaws were all still in place.

"Beginning now, Seekers, you are all off duty for one full cycle. Meet again at this field tomorrow, to learn your new tasks." Starscream was being magnanimous, now that he had just what he wanted. And neither Hook nor Soundwave were going to continue to utilize his Seekers in manners unfitting to Starscream's plans. He turned his back to leave, and as was only proper, Thundercracker fell in on on side, with Skywarp jerkily managing to do the same on his other.

They had repairs to tend, and old bonds to reforge before the new cycle began.

* * *

><p>Thundercracker and Skywarp had spent as little time as possible in the palace as they could get away with. They had a suite, three rooms surrounding a fourth, as the construction had not taken into account that Thundercracker was unlikely to accept a new trine-mate.<p>

Starscream had already found the quarters and swept in as if they had been designed for him, ahead of his wingmates. His sensors had already scanned them earlier, but he did so again, deactivating the new spy devices he found with dismissive bursts of his weapons, or just smashing them as he found them.

The other two took it all in warily. They knew they _had_ to be here, but they had no idea what to expect from their utterly unpredictable wingmate. Starscream had always been a law to himself, and only shallowly bound to them.

Satisfied that he had as much privacy as he could manage, Starscream came back to where the pair waited in the central room, inspecting the damage he had done to them. Skywarp was in the best shape, even considering the occasional spark and pop as his circuitry protested the blast he had taken. With a nod, Starscream settled on the center stool that gave access to his wings and front equally.

"Sit, Thundercracker," he said, his voice both inviting and a command. "Skywarp can see to our repairs while we talk."

Suspicion was etched in every line, but Thundercracker did obey; he had been defeated, and he knew this mech's temper. Skywarp sullenly acquired the repair kit, coming back and pointedly going to assist his spark-mate first. Starscream, surprisingly, allowed that breach of discipline, making Thundercracker even more tense.

"Talk about?" he questioned slowly, watching as Starscream adjusted or removed plating as he waited his turn for the repairs.

"Fill me in on the survivors of the war. I've observed some, but my attention has been pointedly focused to be certain my return went smoothly," Starscream said, a wicked smile at the corner of his mouth. "Skywarp, don't bother so much with the circuits. There are upgrades in this frame that both of you will need to scan and adapt into yourselves. I will admit that Scion had some good ideas, and Ratchet executed them well."

"Yes, Starscream," Skywarp told him, settling some both for being allowed to help Thundercracker first and for the fact Starscream was calm. Yes, there was this buzz of energy around him, as always, but the feeling of patient calculation was reassuring. The fight had been the end of the conflict between them (for the moment), the battle necessary by both class expectations and the mentality that had seeped into the entire army over the course of the war. Only strength was respected. He turned his attention to making certain all the torn lines were sealing properly, and then he would work on plating.

"Astrotrain is still the biggest threat," Thundercracker began, focusing on this trine-leader's faceplates, curious and knowing there were new plans afoot, plans that would no doubt lead them into trouble. "Megatron admitted to beating him down on that planet before bringing him back to the _Nemesis_. What he did not say, but I believe from Soundwave's condition, is that Astrotrain was allied with that slagger."

"Mmm. He can be handled." Starscream would just have to get word out to a pair of refugees, certain they were still in existence. With two of his own kind around, Astrotrain would be slightly more distracted, and neither one of the pair in question were trusted very well. It would blunt the ability Astrotrain had to court a power base.

"Among the Seekers themselves, there's mostly discontent over the broods. I know, flat out, how much coding came from you and those of us you selected," Thundercracker said, temper rising slightly. "Except for Scion, none of the broods created so far have developed Seeker frames. I've kept an eye on one from the junior brood who has Seeker tendencies, but no wings, thinking that he might develop into one of our own support class."

"Both broods are largely constructor class, with a group in each one showing a tendency toward gestalt?" Starscream questioned, to confirm what he had picked up. He had scowled at Scion's name, a factor both his wingmates would filter away, for potential use.

"Yes." Thundercracker flicked his wings irritably, earning a growl from Skywarp to be still. "We bore the brunt of the war. We've already lost the entire true Transport class. The Rotor class, as screwy as they are, have been reduced even worse than our own class. While it's amazing both broods had a full mech translation rate, no drones from either one, we've been trying to prove Hook tampered with them to block the Seeker development. Megatron waves us off, saying the developments are in support of rebuilding, and that our class complains enough about doing brute work. We should be grateful that the worker/warrior class is the one repopulating quickest." His tone was angry and full of frustration.

Starscream considered that, then opened himself to the links between himself and the pair he claimed for his own. The seething, roiled anger came through fully, and he felt a deep satisfaction in his soul. "And the aeries, where are they?" As he had predicted, his question brought savage fury from both, confirming what he had suspected.

"We have none! Skywarp and I carved something out so we did not have to remain here, but the Flights are all in that position. No construction for us, just the city and the temple and whatever Hook decides next!" Thundercracker snarled. "We're tired of living in barracks, shut in and closed off from the skies!"

"Then we shall stop." Starscream smiled at his wingmates. "As Air Commander, I choose our path. And Megatron will not balk me. It was so kind of Hook to teach us construction techniques, so that we may build our own enclave," he crooned.

Thundercracker cocked his head quizzically, then saw the glint in Starscream's optics that meant Thundercracker didn't want to know any more. He had never, ever understood the connection between the Protector and Starscream, but had accepted it as stretching back nearly to their creations. If it was back to a functional thing, instead of making Starscream a prickly mass of neurotic circuits, maybe it could be useful. Given the encounters Thundercracker had provoked in his tempers, he really didn't want any details of how Starscream kept the Protector so interested.

"And what about the broods? Hook controls access to the coding replicators, which means the planned for third brood will be contaminated by him too," Thundercracker said instead.

Starscream's optics blazed. "Trust me."

Those two words had been harbingers of both reward and doom in the past, but neither of the pair had much choice in the matter once Starscream put his will to a plan.

* * *

><p>Repairs took more time than the briefing did, but Starscream was not showing his usual impatience. Instead, he was running over the data, placing it into slots to support his long range goals. The creation of new Seekers, or even support class for them, was a priority, once Thundercracker informed him which Flights still existed. He had plans in place for that. The need to build their own space with the access to the sky they craved was also easily handled. During it all, he would have to scout out just what Soundwave's intentions were, plan against them, and also what Hook intended, through that scrap-bit designated Longarm.<p>

Planning on how to undercut his two equals in rank was always a worthwhile pursuit. Once he had those situations under his control, he could devote more time to fathoming Megatron's long range goals, and usurp them as he chose.

However, as Skywarp welded the last plate in place, Starscream had more immediate goals. He needed this pair, after so long an absence. Beating them had proven who he was, and re-secured a place for him in their lives. He wished to solidify that, and ran a digit along one of Skywarp's sensors, making the teleporter shudder in reaction.

"Do you still need repairs, Skywarp?" he asked, his tone as silken as he could make it.

"My self repair has caught most of it," Skywarp said, flaring his fields at his trine leader. "You could have deactivated me."

"But I did not." Starscream rose from the stool, moving around the dark mech. "You are my trine, both of you, and we have no need to remain apart now." As he said it, he stepped close to the broad wings, flaring his fields in a rhythmic pattern to caress and provoke. Skywarp, predictably, whined with hunger, and Starscream looked over a wing crest to Thundercracker. "Is there?"

Thundercracker knew, deep down, that he could never, truly, give Starscream all his trust. To do so was to invite deactivation. But for now, watching as his spark-mate was being seduced so adeptly, he could choose to trust the current situation.

"Not a one," Thundercracker agreed, rising from his stool. When Starscream pulled Skywarp toward the larger room set aside for the trine leader, Thundercracker followed.

They were a trine again, and that meant more in this moment than it had for most of the war.

* * *

><p>Scion prowled the corridors of the palace with something akin to irritation slowly settling into every line of his magnificent new wings. He had fully integrated the upgrades, and felt confidence in them, but Ratchet had given some of those to Starscream as well. That meant the development of Starscream usurping command of the Flights was not just a small speed bump in his own future plans.<p>

Well, there would be one more upgrade to do, and this time, Scion planned to design it completely on his own. He would correspond with the Autobot medic, strictly because Hook was not to be trusted at this point, but the eventual upgrade would be completely his own doing.

He did not want to admit that he was at loose ends. Starscream's arrival in his life as more than a ghostly presence had curtailed some of his access to Megatron. Just thinking about what his leader would want with a known traitor and seeming sycophant left Scion's tanks roiled. In addition to this, Scion had never - even down to his binary memories - trusted or liked Longarm. The majority of the newer Decepticons were followers of Longarm's plots. Blaster had been tolerable, but Blaster was gone. And while he was still fond of the Combaticons, he also knew that they were inherently dangerous in the long run, due to their loyalty being coerced by Megatron's clever programming.

He was alone, and that made him sharply conscious of the duos, trines, quads, and other configurations among the other fliers.

Why was he the last Seeker created, and when would the situation change? He could not rise to his supreme destiny if he did not have his own supporters, after all.

* * *

><p>"This is an intolerable situation!"<p>

Soundwave sympathized with the fierce mech who refused to sit down. However, he did not approve of the amount of anger so violently on display. Hook thought he had done well to provide the new generations a leader who was strong-willed and dedicated to a future they had agreed on. However, Soundwave would need to start grooming Longarm a little more closely to bring out the dispassionate logic lurking beneath the surface.

Perhaps a minor crisis could be arranged, to test Longarm thoroughly? It was worth contemplating.

"Fliers are unnecessary at this stage. Continue the plans as drawn," Soundwave told the immature coordinator. His gaze fell on Hook. "Utilize more of the Autobot forces."

"Lord Megatron is adamant that they be treated with care," Hook said, his fields flaring in disgust.

"My efforts to make them more biddable to our goals will guide them to volunteer more," Soundwave promised Hook. "Until then, I have one who will keep an optic and audial on the fliers." It was going to be a useful test of Buzzsaw's capability to fill in for Laserbeak, after all.

"What about Starscream himself?" Hook asked in a voice that bordered on outright dangerous while masquerading as curiosity.

Soundwave's optics glinted cruelly. "Let him distract Megatron, as he always did. In the end, it will be their destruction."

* * *

><p>Megatron sliced the security easily; his second's brilliance did have patterns after all, and he strode into the Air Commander's suite with utter disregard for what might be happening. In actuality, he was fully aware, the pulsing thrum of Starscream's preening satiation all too familiar to the warrior. He moved directly to the doorway that separated him from the pile of sensuously entwined Seekers, pausing there to appreciate the view. However, he had more important things to attend, and Starscream was already aware enough of him to begin shoving his mates off of his wings and limbs.<p>

"Lord Megatron," Starscream said with a long, drawn out tone that said he was in no hurry, even as Thundercracker stiffly rose and Skywarp sulkily whined for the intrusion.

"We have an agenda to discuss, Air Commander," Megatron informed his second, optics raking over the other pair of Seekers before he went out Starscream falling in behind him swiftly enough. Megatron kept his silence all the way to the outer courtyards, and then he leapt skyward, transforming to lead the way into a flight that Starscream struggled to keep up with.

Megatron had upgraded his own systems to keep ahead of his treacherous second, studying the designs in Scion's new frame to adapt what he wanted to himself. He enjoyed pushing Starscream to keep up, forcing the Seeker's smaller engines to work harder, sensors raking the performance to see if Starscream was truly worth his time.

He liked what came back to him on those scans.

::You mentioned planning, oh Lord,:: Starscream sent once he had acquired enough data on his new engines to be certain that Autobot medic hadn't fouled something in the building.

::Look around you for once, and see what needs work!:: Megatron snapped at him, their flight having carried them far from the rebuilt portion of their planet.

Molten slag, twisted metal, deep ravines all of these sights sped by beneath their flight. Starscream struggled to put the sights into logic boxes, problems to be sorted and categorized, then dealt with, but the sheer wrench of it made his engines sputter once. He forced more power to them, hating the show of emotional weakness and then Megatron spoke to him once more.

::You care for Cybertron. Put your brilliance to work in finding a solution faster than that petty, preening Constructor!::

With that, Megatron banked their flight, leading it into a sharp turn to return to his city a sobered Starscream flying off his wing and barely behind, just as it should be.

* * *

><p>"The production ability has been severely curtailed," Hook announced as he looked anywhere but the gleaming Seeker to the left of Megatron.<p>

"Unacceptable," Megatron said, well-aware of how sharply it irritated Hook and enjoying the way Soundwave was recalculating the odds on whatever scheme he had in mind. His shields and firewalls had never been tighter, knowing that Soundwave was steadily growing closer to open rebellion. Soon, Megatron would have the culling he needed in his own ranks, to bring forth a truer race.

"Without flight assistance " Hook began, only to be cut off abruptly by the piercing croon of consideration by Starscream.

"It seems to me, if we are to have a functional society beyond this meager city that's been carved out, my Flights must begin mapping and finding the resources that have been shifted and pushed to the surface from deep within the core, yes?" Ruby optics glinted with the jab at both Hook, for the scope of rebuilding thus far, and Megatron, for whom the city was named.

Megatron ignored the barb, but Hook did not manage it. His arrogance where his designs and abilities were concerned was easily as fierce as the Seeker's. The Constructicon, most experienced surviving member of that particular class with its hive-like tendencies, pulled himself to full height and powered up his not inconsiderable weaponry.

Starscream cocked his head to one side, his shields already on full, and smiled with brazen confidence.

"You dare insult my work?"

"I dare anything I care to."

The pair matched optics, Starscream's weapons still in stand-by, cocky to the extreme in his belief that Hook could not actually damage him even at this short range. His complete assurance in how he held himself, and so much history crowded into the Constructicon's processor, making him uneasy. This room was shielded against intrusion, but could that truly keep out a trans-warp? If he fired, would it be to receive a blade through his spinal struts and out through the spark? Would Megatron, after all his efforts to reclaim as many members of their species, allow such violence without meeting it on his own terms? What secrets were hiding inside that frame that baffled all Hook's discreet scans, protecting the insufferable Seeker?

"Then you will come to a speedier end this time, Starscream, because this world is no place for callous idiocy," Hook contented himself to say, backing down. He hated to do so, but the odds were too unpredictable. His weapons went back to stand-by, and he chalked today as one more insult to remedy down the line.

"I suggest a compromise," Soundwave began, his tone flat and dispassionate. "Starscream should allocate a portion of the Flights for both tasks."

"No." Starscream casually canted back in his seat, leg draping over the arm console. "There have been two broods of perfectly serviceable mechs created, both of whom are well-enough along to be an effective work force, since they are, with only one exception, merely ground-mechs. Use them for more than just war games and courier services, Hook, under that lumbering thing you call Longarm." There was an undercurrent in his words of the 'one exception' that Soundwave read as displeasure for the young Seeker Megatron employed as a personal guard and companion.

Hook bridled again, but did not make the mistake of taking the insult to measures of umbrage. In time, Starscream would pay. Longarm was going to be Hook's shining exemplar of Hook's abilities.

"Do it. Starscream, I expect results," Megatron added with a glare at his capricious lieutenant. The wingtips merely twitched in amusement, as Starscream smiled slyly. "Soundwave, I expect the drones ready for launch within the orn. You have each touched a topic we need to address. Our population remains critically low, with those survivors of the cataclysm little more than mindless drones themselves in some cases. I want all Decepticon forces to return to Cybertron; I am certain you will handle any cases of insurrection they bring."

"Of course, Megatron." Soundwave kept his tone and expression bland, his fields neutral.

Megatron knew this was all going to break open wide, and end the most current threat one way or the other. He had a task for Scion, as he accepted the coming violence as necessary to the future he envisioned.

"If we're all done with all this pointless talk?" Starscream inquired in his most biting tone, shifting to rise.

"Starscream, you exist. We'll never be at an end of pointless talk," Megatron informed his lieutenant, making the Seeker sputter as the meeting dissolved.

* * *

><p>"Results; I'll give you results you cannot doubt, and then claw this planet out from under your rusted frame," Starscream muttered once he was in his chambers. "SKYWARP!"<p>

"I'm right here, blast your sonics!" the darker jetformer snapped as he came out of his own chamber.

"I have a task for you, so get your ration and start processing it. You'll be going to Alpha."

"I hate moon trips," Skywarp grumbled but he got his ration from the dispenser, then overrode the coding to steal part of Thundercracker's too. He'd need it, so he could trans-warp instead of fly it straight. Starscream stalked him like prey to the bench he perched on, catching the other Seeker's chin in long talons.

"This one will serve us very well, Skywarp." Starscream smiled with that edge of his processor spinning over a plan, and Skywarp paid strict attention when his commander spooled a set of coordinates to him with very specific instructions on how to retrieve what had been hidden there. Thundercracker had said they'd be loyal, for now, to Starscream, and Skywarp had to admit it was at least looking more entertaining already.

* * *

><p>Megatron looked up as his door slid open, pleased Scion had responded so promptly. Truthfully, as engaging as it was to have Starscream at his beck and call with the promise of eventual conflict to spice it up, there was something about Scion's obedience and loyalty that made Megatron consider it a good investment. He beckoned the young mech closer, turning his attention back to the screens with the city map on display, with various sectors highlighted on each screen.<p>

"I have a task for you, Scion." He did not even have to look to know Scion had straightened with pride to be chosen. How far would Megatron be able to command this one before he dug in and bit back? That would be an eventual entertainment, Megatron was certain.

"Yes, Lord Megatron?"

"Circulate in these areas discretely." Three sectors were highlighted for Scion to view.

"Those are the Autobot areas," scion said with a hint of distaste. He had not forgiven Blaster for leaving with the Autobot medic, relegating him to strictly the company of the Combaticons when Megatron had no need for his services.

"Yes." Megatron turned to look at his young honor guard. "You will get to know them, and learn their thoughts. You will serve me, Scion, as an unofficial ambassador to them, so that any developments within the Palace need not bring them to trouble. After all, we are not yet to a point where we can dispense with my brother's good will and energy sharing, are we?" His tone was amused, but his optics glinted. Optimus would be a part of his final plan, he swore again in his spark.

Scion's wings flexed in irritation, but he nodded once, curtly. "I will what is that term you used from the organic world? Herd the flock as needed."

Megatron laughed at the terminology, delivered with flat tones and no enriching glyphs. He reached out, one hand purposefully caressing the edge of a wing, just to see how it made Scion's fields spark and flare.

One more upgrade, and Megatron would learn if the spark behind it could withstand the desire's culmination .

"Good. You may go."

Scion gave a short bow of his head and left to begin his task. Megatron let the door seal and coded it to privacy, before examining the maps again. Such submission to his will was good, in small doses.

* * *

><p>Starscream walked through the forest of support girders being erected over the high plateau that had been chosen by the combined vote of the Flights. Granted, said voting had been accomplished with many fights, and strong-arming of weaker duos or trines to support stronger ones' chosen locations. The fact the plateau had been Starscream's first choice had <em>nothing<em> to do with it coming out on top at all. He had left much of the designing to others, and was rather intrigued that Thundercracker was showing a real talent for that aspect of life. Of them all, he was actually the one built and intended for true military service, not just the necessary length of time Seekers had been expected to serve before pursuing their own lives.

The Air Commander had bitter memories of how that had been twisted into eternal servitude, with 'rest of their lives' postponed indefinitely by crisis after crisis that only a flying death squad could contend with. How much it had cost Starscream, with Sentinel Prime's harsh use of their abilities, never letting them free to be whomever or whatever they had been sparked for. There would never be a cycle that Starscream escaped the memory of his need for revenge blossoming in the pointless death of one who had never, ever been made for war.

Now, shaped as much by the assassination he had used to plunge Cybertron into change as by the millennia of war, Starscream hardly remembered who that younger version of himself had wished to be. In seeking freedom for his kind, he had reforged himself into the very thing he had detested then, a warrior who could not lay down his blades. Walking among the skeleton of what would be the new Seeker haven, he could think of a future where Seekers did chose their own flight patterns, yet he could not resist the lure to ascend, to have more power for himself, so that he would never be at another's command.

His audials picked out the sound of an incoming engine before Acid Storm called the designation of the incoming jet on the common band as a form of all-clear. His whole class operated as a military unit, but that would change in time. Skywarp's return would be the beginning of it.

::Join me below, at the laboratories.:: Starscream's command to Skywarp was privately sent, as the Air Commander hurtled up and transformed, streaking out of the girders and down around the front side of the high scarp where certain facilities had been blasted and carved out of the sheer facing.

::'Scream don't ever send me to disable your booby traps again.:: There was honest pain in Skywarp's send, as well as grudging admiration for his trine-lead's ability at such things.

Starscream did not dignify that with a response; it had been a vorn of vorns since he hid that failsafe on Alpha. So what if he had forgotten all the details of how to disable the remotes? Skywarp was a teleporter and best suited to dodging, after all.

The pair met at the lab's entrance, and walked in with Starscream in the lead. Once they reached his private section, and had keyed the code, Skywarp sagged against the closest berth inside. His optics took in the five waiting frames and grimaced.

"Only four were still viable. The fifth had lost power long enough before that the shield case had cracked."

"Four is a beginning." Starscream came to his trine-mate and started opening the missile bays. "Four of our own, true Allspark creations "

"Yeah, and what if they don't fuse right to our kind of frames? They're Autobot sparks."

Starscream's optics gleamed. "They will thrive. You'll see." Never, in all his vorns of experience, had Starscream been so thankful for a chance encounter with the Autobot Cosmos shortly before the loss of the Allspark. The explorer had bought his continued existence dearly, and Starscream had tucked the bounty away for use at some later date, never expecting it to come so many vorns later.

* * *

><p>If Skywarp had left Alpha's surface only a few orns later than he had, there would have been something more to see than the research stations and debris from the cataclysm that had been the outcome of using the space-bridge to suck Cybertron to that organic-infested solar system. Astrotrain was there to greet the first of those who had answered Soundwave's summons, on the far side of the moon where independent scans would fail to see them. Any incidental glimpses of their arrivals would be erased by the mech who controlled Cybertron's communications.<p>

As the scattered remnants of the once mighty Decepticon army came home, Astrotrain used the words Soundwave had given him to paint the picture of their home perfectly for the hard-bitten warriors. Not a one of them was ready to accept peace, nor would they be, until Soundwave had his way.

* * *

><p>Scion knew he had been watched the entire time he walked through the tightly clustered dwellings, his wings tucked in far tighter against his frame than he ever wanted to admit. His solitary stroll into what was predominantly Autobot territory was both brazen and stupid, but his Lord wished it of him. He passed many vacant mechs, the wrecks of those who had survived the cataclysm in frame but not spark. Trust the soft Autobots to take them in instead of just leaving them to the work gangs Hook had established.<p>

"You don't belong here."

The shorter, stockier frame-class was still a flier, though planetary bound if Scion remembered his classification system correctly. The speaker also showed no fear as he stepped down into the path of the Seeker wearing bold Decepticon sigils.

"Free planet," Scion forced himself to say, aware of others circling in.

"Maybe for your kind," the squat flier told him with a dismissive snort.

"I say for all kinds," Scion said, half-meaning it, as Megatron's dream floated in his processor. "But it can't happen if we keep dividing ourselves in classes and factions." He could, would do this, because his Lord wanted it.

"So you walked down into the slums to what? Prove we're one kind?" The Autobot pushed right up into Scion's fields and face, glaring.

Scion did not flinch. "Maybe that's just why I came, to learn more of my fellow Cybertronians. Care to be my guide?"

The Autobot gaped at him a long moment, then shook his helm and fell back a little, smile slowly dawning on the dour plates. "Get a load of this, will ya? Fearless and crazy! He might just fit in!" While the others started laughing around them, the red flier threw an introduction pulse into his fields. "Powerglide."

"Scion."

"Well, keep right up, Scion, if you want to know how it is down in the slums." Powerglide fell in beside the Decepticon, and they began moving further into the Autobot territory.

* * *

><p>It began when Megatron was in deepest meditation at the temple. After the incident with Chromia, the Lord High Protector had actually begun taking Scion to stay just outside the perimeter during such times. Of course, with Starscream present again, that was a sensible precaution. In the five meta-cycles since Starscream's reactivation, Megatron had foiled two tests of his superiority, but neither one had been directly linked to the Air Commander. It did not matter; Megatron knew the difference between Starscream testing his ability to hold the leadership and Soundwave's more subtle rebellion brewing under the surface.<p>

However, while Scion was attuned to potential danger near the temple, he had no more warning than his lord when the war for Cybertron began. He was trading communiques with the Autobot Powerglide, an ongoing strategy game that was held slowly in their processors. The friendship had been unlikely, but as Scion spent time in the Autobot sectors for Megatron, he could not help but learn a respect for the tough, smaller flier and his comrades. They had survived the Division War and nearly died at the hands of Sentinel Prime's Cataclysm. Despite that, despite their distrust of the Decepticons who held all the power, they were committed to rebuilding Cybertron.

Inside, Megatron felt a fluctuation in the energies as another spark found its way back to the resting point. The smile he normally held for such growth in the well of power he had created was stilled as he felt the confusion and anger, as well as the sense of betrayal. Pressing in on that, the war mech managed to catch the impression this spark was only recently extinguished, and had not traveled far to return home.

::SCION!:: The blast of connection to his bodyguard and operative was followed by physical movement, as Megatron threw himself into the sleek aerial form he had chosen and the temple's shielding roof opened to allow his exit.

::My lord?:: came the startled reply, but the glyphs raining into his processor from the angered war mech filled in the gaps. It was impossible to believe, and yet Megatron had been preparing for this very moment, possibly since they had begun the rebuilding, or maybe even since the 'rescue' of Soundwave. ::I understand, my lord.:: The Seeker banked to carry out his orders swiftly. He had never truly known a religion that wasn't worshiping at the pedes of his lord, but right now, he hoped that luck or other mystical powers favored them in addition to Megatron's magnificent abilities.

* * *

><p>Hook was ready. It was his moment. All his brilliance would shine through the mech he had crafted in Longarm.<p>

"Hold to the plan," he advised.

Longarm cast him a deeply impassive look, his specially designed optic reading the variations in energy surrounding his mentor.

"I will succeed." He strode out and transformed into the fearsome battle cannon design Hook had crafted for him, his forces spreading out of their own quarters or from their usual tasks to begin the occupation.

* * *

><p>The extinguished spark that served as the warning to Megatron had been the Seeker on duty as the orbital sentry. His flight path was designed by Starscream to keep out of sight of Soundwave's satellites, but the incoming armada had spotted him. Astrotrain had felt a moment of satisfaction to make a kill so quickly, and with one shot, aimed at a precise vulnerability on that build.<p>

He had no idea that the callous kill had affected the thinking of one of his own class. Blitzwing, initially having joined out of class loyalty, had begun to doubt the notion they could wrest control quickly, or that a war this soon was actually worth attempting. His long range scans told him there was a thriving population now, with a strong city built around it. Their species could thrive again. He was uncertain that Soundwave and Astrotrain knew how to, without constant violence, and it made him wonder who the next victims would be if this did not slake that thirst.

Seeing the wanton destruction of a fellow flier, even if it was just a Seeker, left him little doubt that this new war was going to cost their dwindling species far too many.

* * *

><p>Starscream's helm jerked around, as if he could see the mech commanding him to the skies from where he and his class lived. The growl was automatic; he hated to be at the beck and call of anyone, yet Megatron's continuing analysis made it clear this was fully in Starscream's self-interest as well.<p>

::SEEKERS! All Flights into the air! Rainmakers, sentry duty here! Full arms, full shields!:: More data streamed between him and the leads of each grouping, as the fractious class united fully behind their leader. For some, battle lust rose swiftly. For others, it was a fire building slowly into rage, as their newly reclaimed home was threatened just as they had let themselves see a future of peace.

The assigned sentries watched their comrades rise with a mix of envy and hope that they would be successful.

* * *

><p>Onslaught had long ago worked around the specifically coded virus in his system, and that in his partners' processors. It had suited him, though, with the war ending, to continue the easy con job that was keeping Megatron fooled as to where his loyalty was given. That, namely, was to himself. Secondly, it was to the team, because even he could not break the gestalt. Swindle had certainly tried, many times, even when they were still bound to Megatron directly.<p>

If it could be said that they cared for anything, though, as a team, it was Scion. Teaching him to be a tough-as-tungsten mech, with fighting skills no Seeker usually possessed, had been a team-bonding experience they had all needed with no enemy left to fight.

The gestalt leader had to wonder, then, if it was their known affinity for Scion, or if Megatron suspected the truth after all when the call to battle came from their scrap of a ward.

"Bruticus is needed," was all he said, knowing the others had received the same high-speed, encrypted transmission from Scion.

Vortex leered a little while Brawl smacked one fist into his palm. Blast Off well, Blast Off always looked that disdainful, and Swindle was already tallying profit off whatever they scavenged from whomever got in their way.

* * *

><p>Megatron had multiple mini-processors designated strictly to the functions of tactics, analysis, and decision-making in battle. This meant that even as he held his own against the organized fleet, he had more than enough attention span to clearly note the warriors that fought by themselves. He could make educated guesses as to the crew of the leviathan ship that had been brought to bear in the carnage. He would remember each and every name, as he fought for the first time in so many long eons as the Lord High Protector.<p>

The Junkion attack had been nothing more than a nuisance. They had been unprepared to face a true resistance. This? This was _his_ planet under attack, the future of _his_ dream hinging on the outcome. _His people_ were now clearly marked out to the frayed but still present coding of protectorship, and they were threatened by the insurrection that came to a head in the form of Astrotrain.

::Starscream, aim to disable and accept surrenders.:: Megatron had to actually filter the ensuing squawks of profanity and disbelief, but his lieutenant would see sense in the end. Raw, uncontaminated code was needed to diversify the coming generations, and any one of these deep space fighters might hold that code. He let loose a barrage of weapon-fire, preventing Astrotrain from getting the proper angle for an atmosphere entry. He was closing fast on the leader, but already knew fighters were making it through to assist the rebellion on the ground. ::The exception, my lieutenant, is Astrotrain himself. Should any engage him other than myself, feel free to destroy him.:: That soothed the Air Commander somewhat, and the Flights arrayed themselves according to the disabling strategy.

Starscream himself angled to clear the space that separated himself from Megatron or Astrotrain, more likely.

Inwardly, Megatron smiled. His kind, the inheritors of Cybertron, were on the cusp of their inheritance, with one last crucible to forge their metal into the purity he desired.

* * *

><p>Scion streaked in, wings folded back for the more narrow passages, until he had to give up flight and tumble into a run on the decking. ::Powerglide! Powerglide, I want you!::<p>

The sends were directed and pointed, but the Autobot sectors always seemed to muffle his communications to a slight degree. Finally, when he had almost reached the dwelling of his friend, he saw the smaller flier exit a building that was quickly barricaded on his exit.

/They know?/

"Friend or no friend, if you've brought trouble down on us " Powerglide began, raising a fist threateningly. "This is your war, not ours!"

"You know!" How had they known when his lord had been caught off guard?

Powerglide caught that stunned surprise, the creeping edge of suspicion, and relaxed his fist to rest it on the young Seeker's wrist. "Soundcreep set off a signal of some kind, some kind of processor-manipulation. We're not going to help you, but I'll tell you that much, knowing you hate him much as any of us. Only, we had ways to safeguard ourselves, ever since Chief Medical was here, and guessed what was up. Only a few tried to go, and we stopped them, to keep them safe."

That made a strange amount of sense. Especially since Blaster had left with the medic. Blaster would have held clues on how to combat Soundwave's perversions. But that also meant Powerglide and his people were proof, solid proof, that Soundwave was involved. That put them at risk.

"Powerglide, you can't just barricade yourselves in here. Lord Megatron estimates that most of the ground forces are under control of the subversives, and my kind have to keep the skies clear. We need your help!" Scion would consider the fact he had thrown both truth and passion into those words later, when they felt more like an admittance of weakness. Already he was rationalizing the fact that he counted Powerglide as a friend, the relationship built during all the cycles since Megatron assigned him as Autobot Liaison Officer.

"What does it matter to us, which of those power-glitched mechs are in charge? We're just the crazy source of extra labor to either of them, and life goes on as it ever does, Scion," Powerglide explained. "We fought our war. Against your people."

"So you'd go with the mech that tried to use you as mindless soldiers over the one who made certain you had a place, peace, and a way to get any concerns to him immediately? Or didn't you think Megatron had a hand in encouraging me to come down here? I'm his personal guard!"

"You make me doubt our friendship when you put it that way," Powerglide said in a rumble of a threat. Distantly, they heard pulse-fire, indicating the war on the ground did have at least some resistance to the entrenched grounders.

Scion covered the hand that had never left his wrist. "It was an assignment, but Megatron is right! We are one people, and you have done more to show me that than anyone else on this planet!" Desperately, Scion lowered his shields enough to flick his personal fields along Powerglide's, leaving himself vulnerable. There was resistance, and then Powerglide stepped close enough to throw his own shields around the young Seeker. "I trust in you," Scion said, as an answer to the wordless challenge he had thrown out by giving his defense to another. "Help us make one world united."

Powerglide shook his helm. "You're asking me and mine to forget how many classes he decimated, how many no longer exist because he didn't have enough power standing at the temple with his equal."

"No. I'm asking you to make it clear to him that he was wrong then, and right now, to trust in the power of our species as one," Scion told his friend, even as the battle sounds wafted in more clearly. "This is your home, that you have built. Do you really think Soundwave will let you keep it, considering how he already tried to turn you into unwitting cannon fodder?"

* * *

><p>The moment that defined the life Blitzwing wanted to have came in the flash of a realization that Megatron, well-known to be ruthless and unforgiving, was not shooting to deactivate. The triple-changer had been holding back, providing cover for the smaller space-worthy Decepticons, while he considered the situation. Seeing that, his partner Octane had also held himself back to the rear of the armada, trying to keep the Seeker fleet from attaining hull-breaches on their one leviathan.<p>

::This is wrong.::

The send from Blitzwing to Octane was filled with layers of meaning, from attacking their own home-world to Megatron's determined fighting that left mechs on the verge of stasis but not deactivated.

::So ::

Before Blitzwing could answer that, Megatron finally engaged Astrotrain directly, and Starscream was none too far from him. Blitzwing weighed all options, especially his own feelings, and made his decision.

::Start convincing as many of them as we can to fall back or surrender.::

Octane tried very hard not to send back all the shock he felt, but it leaked through anyway. ::Blitz?::

::They won't destroy us. He'd be doing it now, if that was his intent. But I have a feeling it will go a lot better for anyone who stops fighting than those that are forced to submit,:: the elder triple-changer told his partner.

* * *

><p>Longarm crashed into Scion within moments of the Seeker finally appearing on the battlefield. Devastator was locked in combat with Bruticus, with no clear victor in the making. Around them, the pitiful forces loyal to Megatron among the Decepticons were being corralled and overwhelmed by the forces under Longarm's command.<p>

::Submit, and I will allow you to be my pet Seeker. Not such a change for you, is it brother?:: Longarm sent through the tactile link as he grappled with the lithe, smaller mech.

::I am no pet!:: The Seeker's rage provided what his skill could not, fueling the fight. Scion was at a disadvantage and knew it, as Longarm had taken his full course of upgrades and out-massed him by a third. However, Scion was just as gifted as the mech he had been patterned from when it came to designing weaponry, a factor he had used in creating the last upgrade Ratchet had installed for him. When Longarm's punching blade penetrated Scion's torso, electricity arced back down the blade and into the aggressive mech, pushing Longarm to fall back and allowing Scion a chance to recover some distance.

"You cannot win! We have all the resources! We built this city! WE WILL TAKE IT FOR OURSELVES!" Longarm thundered at his opponent. Scion, trying to both stem his energon loss and bring up his modified nullification rays, did not bother to answer.

The roar of Powerglide's followers did it for him as the Autobots and even the broken, near-mindless survivors of the Cataclysm poured toward the battle.

"Terrans have a saying, my Lord once said," Scion managed to spit out as Longarm tried to react to the changing odds. "Even vermin will fight back when cornered, and those? Are veterans of a war you nor I can comprehend as more than a textual fact."

The grounded mech could not react fast enough as Scion leaped up, ignoring the pain to transform, and joined his friend in the skies to bring about an end to the fight for their world.

* * *

><p>Soundwave, distant from the melee, was not impressed that neither his careful conditioning of the Autobots had worked, nor that his plans were failing to come to successful fruition. He felt the tide of battle, above and on the planet itself turning away from his own odds, and moved to go toward the launcher. If he could escape the planet quickly enough, all was not lost.<p>

His path was impeded by Ravage, whose optics gleamed with predatory interest. In a brief push against the supposed symbiont's firewalls, Soundwave knew that his fate had been sealed the day Megatron introduced him to the dangerous survivor

He brought up his shields and weapons to prepare for the fight, knowing Buzzsaw was lurking, and unsure if the bonding or the wish for freedom would win in the flier's coding.

* * *

><p>Megatron was the first to find the manipulator behind all the events. Seeing the damage Ravage had already taken, the Lord High Protector nearly finished the task the cyber-hunter had begun, but he had to make a firm example. Everyone would see the outcome of this attempt to wrest control from him. A curt command to Starscream, who bore his own damage as if it did not exist, and the hunter was carried away for repairs. Reflector did not like applying his scientific prowess to other mechs, preferring his more anti-social pursuits, but until Megatron had a constructor he could trust, Reflector was going to be in charge of repairs.<p>

That left the broken form of Buzzsaw, turning brittle with the loss of energon, and the nearly destroyed mech who had served Megatron's purposes even in his rebellion.

"Did you dare dream I did not know, Soundwave? Or did you truly fall to the belief I was weak and unworthy of my place?" The war-mech snapped a heel out, crushing the weapon Soundwave had been trying to bring to full power. "I knew." Now, Megatron crouched, optics near Soundwave's. "I used you this time, shadow-king." The Lord High Protector smiled, but it was cold and edged with all his triumph in this moment. "Your rebellion has been the final crucible for annealing our race into what I see for their future." With that said, Megatron lashed out one more time, knowing Soundwave had felt defeat truly sink in at the thought of being out-manipulated, and sent the mech into a full crash of his systems. Only then did Megatron drag the heavy frame to the repair bay.

* * *

><p>Scion tried hard not to hiss as Powerglide pulled on his wing, trying to align it correctly. Both of them were smeared in char and dried energon, and Scion knew he should return to the palace. He didn't really want to get swept up in the aftermath of this so quickly, and Powerglide seemed to understand the oddities of his frame enough to work on him.<p>

He didn't want to dwell on the fight, he found. It had been different, repelling the Junkions. This? This had worked in under his sense of self, the self that was more than willing to defend his own existence, the self that had no problem bucking up against Starscream or anyone who dared threaten him. It made him regret, and that was an emotion he wasn't comfortable with at all.

"Honorable Flier?"

The voice made Scion look, expecting one of the pathetic ones to be speaking to Powerglide. It was shocking then that one of the higher-functioning ones was standing there, offering him a ration cube. The amber eyes showed no fear, and the hands did not tremble as they held the cube out. Scion reached out, accepting the cube, and then forced a smile for the wretched no, not wretched,_ damaged_ one. "Thank you." The verbal pleasantry sent the damaged survivor scurrying away, but Scion saw the faint flicker of pleasure in the fields.

Maybe he had fewer regrets, after seeing that, even if he could never admit any of this to his Lord.

* * *

><p>The full population had been commanded to come forward for the day of judging. The Autobots were arranged so that they shielded their broken wards, but they had come to avoid angering the war-mech who now held this planet entirely, with no resistance capable of meeting him. Scion had seen Powerglide very ably leading them in; his friend was showing all the signs Megatron had taught him to look for in leaders, despite having never been more than an auxiliary in the war, by the records Scion had found.<p>

The assembled rebels who had survived were in chains and at the center of the surviving Seeker Flights. Starscream stood to one side of the Lord High Protector, and Scion was tolerating the fact he stood equal with his pattern-maker on the central dais. For once, they seemed to be in accord with their Lord's wishes to tolerate one another.

Longarm, Soundwave, and Hook were at the forefront of the prisoners, while the row behind them held Blitzwing and Octane both. The rest of the rabble, which included no few Autobots who had rejected the peace, waited, certain of the fact their fate rested in the claws of a mech who had plunged their entire race into civil war for reasons no better than ambition.

A combined hiss of shock rippled out as Megatron snapped his fingers, and three mechs who looked like no other class emerged from the bunker to the side. Those mechs who had existed long enough stiffened with fear and caution, both among the free and the imprisoned.

"Cybertronians, this day is the end of the war, for once and all, between those who choose to call themselves Decepticons or Autobots to the detriment of our race," Megatron began, as each of the three insectoid mechs stopped in front of one of the front row prisoners. "Mercy will be granted to all who surrendered, but they will be banned from carrying any weaponry until I have individually spoken to each one."

Silence rippled through the crowd; that had not been expected by many. The silence gave Megatron time to speak clearly and have his words be heard by every mech there. He wanted none to miss it.

"Blitzwing and Octane will transport those who did not surrender willingly to a planet of my choosing. They will do so under a Flight commanded by Thrust. Longarm is the designated leader of this new 'colony', which will be his perfect dream of a flier-less society, as both triple changers are invited to return as full members of our society, all past crimes and insurrections forgotten. To make the trip more efficient, Kickback will be in charge of siphoning excess energy from the transportees."

Protests grew into a roar, as the named Insecticon violently deconstructed into a mass of small flying drones, swarming out to preordained targets. The noise died, with some protests of 'mercy' called before the only noise was that of mechs falling on the field, chains losing their glow as the mechs lost power under the leeching effect of the swarm.

"Now, I have named Longarm leader, choosing him over two highly placed officers without the typical battle for supremacy," Megatron stepped forward, walking to just behind the two remaining Insecticons. "Soundwave, you have existed through three pairs of leaders on Cybertron, and had a hand in many administrative decisions. You were useful, for a time. Now, you have reached too far. Shrapnel is immune to your unique abilities, and has been very hungry for a very long time."

"I take that from you!" Soundwave declared, hatred in every syllable before he instigated a self-destruct. The mech fell to one knee, robbing Megatron of the full horror of the chosen death. The Lord High Protector growled, but turned Shrapnel lose to devour what remained, erasing Soundwave from any form of existence save memory.

He did not doubt Starscream would eliminate that as well, with careful tinkering in the databases.

Hook was stiff with dignity, refusing to admit defeat, and incapable of the level of self-harm Soundwave had managed. His ward, Longarm, had excelled, even if the plans had gone astray. "Of course none of my class would lead, Lord High Protector," Hook began, but Megatron cut him off with a growl of 'silence!' that left the crowd leaning in to hear of this next fate.

"Bombshell, this one has skills that are useful, but his concept of self is getting in the way of that usefulness," Megatron decreed. "Fix that for me."

"NO, my Lord, please!" Hook screamed, trying to jerk forward and plead for mercy, but Bombshell was already bringing up his hand and transforming it to implant the device that would eradicate Hook's personality completely.

Megatron tasted the scream that followed with savage pleasure, but walked back calmly to his place on the dais. He looked over the crowds, prisoners and allies alike. His point was made; he could show mercy and ruthlessness in one maneuver, while maintaining Cybertron's place as what he cared for in their optics.

He had forged a race that would be powerful, while Longarm's rebels brewed in their discontent to be a problem that would plague and sharpen the future generations of Cybertronians. As he mounted the dais, he flicked his awareness over both Seekers, tasting their contrasting reactions. Scion was deeply thoughtful, possibly tinged by disgust of some kind, but it was aimed at the prisoners, not Megatron.

Starscream, as always, was wary and contemplating insurrection of his own, no doubt. Megatron would let him; every greatness had to be measured by the trials overcome, after all. A few more ceremonial words, and the assembly was broken up to turn to duties.

That left Megatron time to write his brother for the safe keeping of Blaster, last of a once common class.

* * *

><p>"<em> in short, brother, the cost of my gamble was minimal. Some were lost, but in the full scope of it, I believe this will end the wars between our factions for the foreseeable future. Enjoy the peace while we have it; universal law demands that something evolve to meet us on the grounds we exist already.<em>"

Optimus closed the communication down, and realized he'd been more than remiss in his duties to his brother, contemplating all that had happened since Ratchet had returned from Cybertron.

"You have no idea, brother," he said softly, before beginning his own briefing to send back.


End file.
